


You're Lying

by trancyslut



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-25 21:57:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 26,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1663859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trancyslut/pseuds/trancyslut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been eight years since their death. Eight years of being alone. Or has he been? Sebastian tells Ciel the story about how he used to work for his mother, before she died, before she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy. Except the child is not Vincent's. Who could be the father? When Ciel finds out who it is, he does the unthinkable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

Let me tell you a story. A story in which a certain Earls life is turned around. A story where a butler keeps secrets. A story that will change everything.

* * *

"Sebastian!" I shout loudly, my fingers impatiently tapping on my wooden desk. Now really isn't the time to be testing my patience Sebastian. I slam my hand down on my desk, my self-control wearing thin. I might as well drag him up here myself. I stare at the door, waiting for that demon to appear. I ring the bell again and again and again, hoping he will get annoyed and hurry up already.

Just as I opened my mouth to shout out for him, I hear three knocks on my door. "Finally" I mutter. "Well, come in." I lean back in my chair, rocking on its heels. I pick up the fountain pen and tap it on the desk, becoming more and more irritated with every second that ticks by.

He walks through the door casually, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back in a bun. That's strange for him; he doesn't wear his hair back often.

"You called, young master?" He asks, looking at me in my chair. His eyes land on my fingers, on the pen I'm playing with, and smirks. Smug bastard. He waits expectantly.

"What took you so long?" It's not so much a question than it is an accusation. But it doesn't faze him. Nothing does.

"I was working." He states smoothly.

"That's very vague. What were you doing?"

"If you really want to know, I was elbow deep in blood and insides, gutting a pig for tomorrow's supper. But I thought it would be best to not let you see the intestines on my hands, so I needed to clean up. Apologies young lord." He explains. I didn't think that he did that work, I just assumed…

"Never mind that." I dismiss, standing up. But when I stand, my vision goes a little blurry, and I wobble slightly. I steady myself on the desk, and blink a few times.

"Young master? Are you alright?" He asks, stepping towards me. I wave him off.

"I'm fine. Just a little dizzy is all. I've been sitting for a very long time" He nods, watching me a little closer. I walk over to my bookshelf and grab my copy of Sherlock Holmes.

"I want something to eat; Sweets. A cake to be specific. Anything is fine, really. Perhaps something newer though. I've had far too much gateau chocolate and raisin and apple deep pie." I tell him, eyeing my paperwork in front of me. Apparently Sir Richard wants me to come celebrate the birth of his second child. The manufacturer down town also needs my approval for a new candy they've created. It sounds good, a deep fried wafer covered in chocolate and caramel. I lick my lips, swallowing back the saliva pooling in my mouth. Signing the papers, I hand them to Sebastian. "And take these to the post, mail them by today. I can't have business backing up." I tell him, leaning back in my chair. I grab my book, and begin skimming through the pages, glancing up when I hear the door close behind Sebastian. I quickly set the book down, and open up my bottom drawer. I pull out a picture frame, and set it on my desk.

Mother. Father. She sits down in the chair, hair pulled back, and a lovely lilac dress on. He stands behind her, hand on her shoulder. They both look so beautiful together, they look happy. I exhale harshly, trying to keep calm. My eyes sting and I can feel tears forming at the back of my eyes. I blink a few times, trying to get rid of them, but they only fall to the floor. They drop onto the hard wood flooring, leaving splatters of water behind. I stare at my mother and father, crying silently. How weak I am, crying over the death of somebody. But, after all, it is their anniversary. Which means it's also my birthday. I can't believe it's been eight years. Eight years without a mother or father. Eight years of having to pretend like I'm a grown up. Eight years alone. No family. They're all dead.

What's the use in doing this every time. I thought it was supposed to get better. I thought people move on from loss and death. My breathing becomes labored, like someone is stepping on my lungs. I struggle to take in a breath, as the water streams down my face and on to my trousers. It feels like im drowning. I can't take a breath. I choke, and let out a strangle cry. My lungs burn for air, the edges of my vision going dark. What's happening to me? I stand up, staggering at the rush of blood to my head. I trip and hit the top of my desk, the few papers that it held floating to the floor. The picture frame goes crashing to the floor. It feels as if invisible hands are gripping tight on my throat. I lean against the desk, feeling so light headed I might pass out.

Then it suddenly goes away. My trachea opens up and air funnels down in to my oxygen deprived lungs. Relief fills my body as I suck in the much needed gas. My head is pounding, but over the sound of the beating I hear Sebastians footsteps coming down the hall. I quickly gather the papers that had fallen off the desk and throw them on to the table, straighten myself up and sit down in my chair. I can't let Sebastian know about this. It'll only make him worry, and I won't hear the end of it. He'll have me poked and prodded with who knows what. I grab the photograph off the floor, wincing at the large crack that made itself down the middle of the glass from the fall, and hide it underneath all the documents, shutting the drawer. I pick the book back up, the only thing that hadn't moved, and start reading at a random spot, taking a deep breath to calm myself. I close my eyes, hoping he won't be able to tell of what just happened.

The door swings open, and in comes Sebastian pushing a trolley with my sweets on it. It's covered up, but I can smell the aroma of the food and my tea. He looks at me, and for a brief second his eyebrows scrunch together. But it's gone as quickly as it came, the break in appearance gone.

"I have prepared something extra special for today my lord. I found the recipe in the back of the cellar, and I have to say it looked delicious." He tells me. "I made you a fluffy white cake, covered in strawberries and cream. The recipe said it is shortcake of some kind. And with it, White Darjeeling Tea. The slight peach flavor will compliment the dessert nicely." He finishes his summary of the meal, and smiles at me. But I can't focus. My vision is going blurry, and I can feel my throat closing off again. _No no NO!_ Not again, not in front of him. I try to stay calm, to ignore the pain of the weights on my chest, but I start gasping for air, my mind going blank. It's worse this time, the thumping in my head deafening.

"Master Ciel? Is something wrong?" Sebastian says quietly. Im hiding the pain as best I can but it becomes too much. My body slumps forward, propelling me out of my chair. I don't hit the hard floor like I expected, but strong arms. My eyes are wide open, but unseeing. I hear Sebastian calling for me, calling my name, and then everything goes black.


	2. 2

The silk gloves on my face are warm, soft. Smooth, and gentle. They run over my forehead, my cheeks. It's comforting, the tender caress of the gloves. I sigh quietly, enjoying it. For once I don't have to worry about anything else; Just myself. I can relax, at least for a little while. I try to open my eyes, but when I do it's still dark. My head hurts, and I fall back to sleep with the silk gloves stroking my face.

* * *

It's dark here. Wherever here is. It's frightening. I feel contained, claustrophobic. I reach out in front of me, and feel a steel bar. I move my hand to the right a little, and feel another steel bar. A cage. I'm in a cage. My breathing gets faster, my eyes looking wildly in the dark. Where am I? Why am I here? I scream. I scream for help, scream out of fear, scream because I am afraid. It's just like back then. I can't do anything but scream. Then the hands come.

Greasy, slimy, dirty hands reaching through the bars and grabbing at me. They grab at my clothes, tearing it from my body. They grope around, putting their fingers where they shouldn't. I can't see them, but they can see me. It's so dark in here. I'm so afraid. I look around frantically, trying to see something, anything. I try to shrink away from their touch, but I can't seem to get away. I keep screaming, tears streaming down my face.

The lights come back on, and make me squint. The sudden light makes my eyes burn, and I try to look around for my offenders. I look outside of the cage, and see them. A woman and man, wearing theatre masks. The woman has the tragedy one, a silver mask. The man has comedy, gold. They are side by side, wearing black cloaks. They seem familiar…

They both remove their masks, and I scream. Its mother and father.

* * *

Its morning, I can tell even though my eyes are closed. My eyelids are a muted orange, and the heat on my cheeks and neck warm me. I open my eyes, and blink a few times. Is something different? I rub my eyes while yawning, and look again. Yes, something is out of place… I scan my room, looking for the strange object. I see my armchair across from my bed, and see a black jacket on the arm. That's it; I never have clothes left around. But, that's not mine. Why is it there?

I try to call out for Sebastian, but my voice is hoarse. My throat is tight and sore, it feels as though I've been yelling for quite some time. I lift myself up from bed, and wince. Why are my sides and shins sore? I remove one leg from underneath the covers, and see dark bruises splotched all over. I lift my night clothes up as well, and see the blemishes there too. What happened to me? Have I been in an accident? Sebastian came in with my snack, and said something about dessert, but that's all I remember. Bits and pieces are clear, but the rest is blurry. The darkness, silk gloves. I'm confused. What does this mean?

I ring the bell on my night stand, and hear Sebastian climbing the stairs. I relax back into the pillows, allowing my muscles to loosen up. I keep swallowing, trying to get rid of the soreness in my throat. He knocks, and I moan in response, it's the most noise I can make. I don't like this whole 'not talking' thing. I'll have to get it fixed as soon as possible. He opens the door, and I can tell instantly that he's been worried. The visible worry lines etched across his forehead disappear when he sees me sitting up. His hair is all disheveled and messy, probably from him pulling on it or running his fingers through it. He sighs heavily, as if to say 'you're alright'. The break in appearance is small, and is quickly gotten rid of, as he returns to his calm and stoic self.

"Young master, it's good to see you're awake. You've been asleep for quite some time now." He says, and I frown. I didn't sleep that long, it only felt like a few hours. I guess I was wrong. I try to speak, but all that comes out is a croaking sound, followed by a series of coughs. I clear my throat, and try again, but it just brings on another fit of coughing. Sebastian, noticing my distress, reaches out into the hallway and pulls in a trolley. I can smell the tea, it's lemony. The wheels roll silently across my floor, and stops right beside my bed. He prepares the tea silently; the only sound is my labored breathing and the clank of the spoon. He stirs in a spoonful of honey, and I lick my lips. He places the cup and saucer in my hands, and they rattle against each other in my shaking hands. I cringe at the embarrassment, and take a sip. It's lemon tea, the tartness sweetened with honey. It fills my mouth, and soothes my aching throat. I take another drink, and allow the hot tea to do its thing. I appreciate the hot drink, and down the whole thing, ignoring the burns it leaves on my tongue. I lick my lips again, and put the cup back down on the saucer. Clearing my throat, I test out my voice.

"Thank you for the tea." I say, my voice barely a hoarse whisper. I sound pathetic and weak, but I can't do anything about it. I want to know what happened after he came into my room, why I can't speak and have bruises.

"Why is your jacket on the chair?" I accuse, my voice small. He glances over to the armchair, and his eyes shoot up in surprise.

"I'm sorry young master. I watched over you while you were sleeping, so you didn't hurt yourself further. I must have left it there by accident. I was just so worried." He admits, his head lowers slightly, but I can still see the faint blush on his cheeks. Embarrassed Sebastian is a sight to behold, certainly.

"Sebastian, what happened? I don't remember anything" I say, clearing my throat again. This is going to be annoying; I won't be able to talk to anybody. Sighing, I lean back into the pillows, and fiddle with the duvet.

"I found a new recipe for your snack, and when I brought it in, you looked pale. Your eyes were bloodshot, and you looked wiped, your face was as white as a sheet. I told you what the desert was, and you passed out. I caught you, and tried to wake you, but it didn't work. You've been unconscious for two days now." He explains. My mind is blank. That can't be true. It can't be. How could I have just passed out? Am I that weak? He continues.

"You screamed constantly in your sleep, none of the other servants could get any rest. And you thrashed about like you were being tortured. It really was horrible to watch." He says, his voice turning solemn. I know Sebastian cares deeply for me. He worries more than he should. He's going to die from a heart attack one day, I swear.

"I don't know what happened. I felt tired before though, during the day." I say, pondering over my episode. I downplay the severity of what happened. The burning sensation of not being able to breath comes racing to my mind. I can't tell him anything. Don't say a thing about it.

"It was also your parents death anniversary, that could have had something to do with it." He suggests, looking at me sympathetically. I sneer at him.

"That's ridiculous. Don't be stupid. I must have not had enough water or rest. My parent's death had nothing to do with it"

I don't let anyone know about my weakness for my parents. They say with time, wounds heal. But I find that with each year that passes, it gets harder and harder to cope. I thought it was supposed to get easier. Sometimes I find it hard to breathe when I think about them. How I could never get revenge. How I  _failed_. Because I was weak. I am weak.

Sebastian stays silent, and nods his head. He takes my dishes, and leaves the room without so much as an "Excuse me". I lay back and drift back to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

He's being strange. I'm not sure why, but he is acting strange. Sebastian doesn't make mistakes like this. I stare at my dinner plate, at the sloppy presentation, the cloudy, un-polished silverware. The table cloth even has dirt on it. He's slipping.

My voice is still hoarse. A little louder, but not completely healed yet. Ever since the past day or two, when I told Sebastian about my 'episode' he started getting sloppy. First it was just small things, tea a little too sweet, or the room not dusted. But it's gotten worse. I went to bed last night, to find it not made. It was in the state I left it that morning. It's like he's completely forgotten how to do his job. He's always sweating too. It's strange, because I've never seen him sweat. Demons don't sweat. Something must be wrong with him, and he needs to get himself together.

"Sebastian. Come here" I beckon him over, having not touched my food. He walks over quietly, his steps faltering a little. I can see his hands shake too, and his brow has a thin layer of moisture on it. "You're getting sloppy" I say, gesturing to my dinner. "Dirt on the table cloth, un-polished silver, messy presentation? What is this?" I say, my voice wheezing as I try to shout. He doesn't reply right away, he only darts his eyes away from mine.

"I am sorry, my lord. I will clean this up at once. I apologize." He says, and a small blast of wind hits my face. He disappeared from my side for a moment, but is back now. I look down to my dinner, and see everything is as it should be; my cutlery is shining again, the cloth has been cleaned and ironed. My dinner has no splashes or slops of sauce. I nod, and he goes back to stand behind my chair. I watch him stand there like a statue. He looks normal. But his eyes are still flitting about the room, never meeting mine. He's hiding something…


	3. 3

I thought we were getting over this little bump. I watch Sebastian mindlessly prepare dinner. I'm sitting on a stool in the kitchen, somewhere I'm not there often. I decided to come because I had absolutely nothing to do. All the paperwork is finished for today and I've completed reading the Sherlock Holmes series. So I decided to entertain myself by watching him. He is usually good at this sort of thing, isn't he?

I watch him closely, and become perplexed. Every time he slices the carrot, his eyes flick over to me, then back to the vegetable. Like he's watching me watching him. Why is he acting so strange? A butler should be organized and efficient. Sebastian just seems to be… lacking.

He grimaces, and I look down to see blood. He's cut his finger. How incompetent.

"Honestly, how are you getting stuff done around here? You're being inadequate; your work has been getting sloppy. I thought we were over this little bump in the road, but I see not."  
He looks up at me, a slight frown showing on his lips. He nods quietly.

"You're quite right young master." He says shamefully.

"Just go clean up." I tell him, and jump down from my perch. He leaves the kitchen first, holding his bleeding finger. I listen for his footsteps to become quiet, and then race down the hall towards the servants' quarters. I reach Sebastians' room, and check to make sure nobody is close by. If somebody found out I was going in here, I'd have to dig myself out of a very deep hole.

The door opens quietly, the hinges well oiled. I remember when I first showed him the room, they squeaked so loudly you could hear it down the hall. I guess he fixed it, being the butler that he is. It's dim in the room, almost pitch black except for the stream of light coming in from the doorway. I stumble through his bedroom, and search for the matches. I find them beside his candle set, and I quickly strike one. The smoke fills my nostrils, and I choke. Even the smell of a match being struck makes the memories come speeding back with vengeance, screaming for my attention. I light the wick quickly, and the room is filled with a faint light. His bed is made, impeccable. He doesn't sleep in it anyway, not that I know of at least. I've heard him roaming the corridors numerous times when I am still awake. I wonder what he does. Probably cleans everything, even the stones outside.

I search through his wardrobe, only to find a couple other sets of his uniform. No personal belongings. Nothing hanging on the walls. No family pictures. I mean, I know he doesn't have a family, but he could at least have some pictures of cats or something. It's so dreary in here, even for a demon.

I spot his dresser in the corner of the room, and dig through the drawers. Nothing. Socks, shoe polish, towels. I'm just about to close the drawer when something dark underneath the towels catches my eye.

A journal. Why would Sebastian hide a journal? I shouldn't go through his belongings… but he is my butler, my property, therefore anything he owns is by extension, mine as well. I open the journal, and see his precise writing. Pages after pages, written in black ink. Some of it is neat, how he usually writes, but some of it is rushed, splotchy even. Are those water marks? I flip through the book, and see the whole thing has been filled. I start to read a passage.

**It's my third day here. They seem very strange. She gives me odd jobs to do, clean the candles, iron the dogs' collar. I don't really understand why, but who am I to disagree with my master. Though I wish I could get rid of that wretched dog.**

**I shouldn't be saying that, they care for him very much. Sort of like a child. I can't even imagine the two of them having children; they would fight so much it would kill itself. I know I would.**

**How peculiar it is, that a married couple fight like angels and demons. Sometimes I will come across my mistress, sobbing into a handkerchief. Last night was particularly worse; she had bruises on her arms. I know he did this to her, but I am not in the position to call him out on it.**

I stop reading. It must have been a couple, his previous master. Or meal, should I say. The man was abusive. I don't know why he's writing this all down though. IT makes no sense. I flip a few pages, and read another passage.

**She comes to me now, when he lashes out. The first time I witnessed what he did to her, it was only two weeks ago. They have become frequent, two or three times a week. She is very distraught when it happens, but she always comes to me. To talk, to sit, to listen.**

**Each time we talk, I notice more and more things about her. The way she bites her lip to contain her sobs. Her nervous habit of tapping her foot when she wants to ask me something. And the way her eyes shimmer in the light. Every day, she seems to get more and more beautiful. I want to spend more time with her, which is absurd.**

**I can't think of my master as beautiful, at least not this way. I lust for her, for her skin against mine. I don't understand what this aching is in my chest. I need to control myself.**

It looks like Sebastian had a passion for his master. How devious. That sly fox. I hear footsteps in the kitchen, Sebastian must be back. I quickly hide the book back under the towels, and leave his room, after blowing out the candle. He mustn't know I was in there.

"Sebastian." I call, walking towards the kitchen.

"In here, master." He replies from a room away. I walk through the doorway, and see him washing his hands. He holds up his finger, and I see it is wrapped up. "See, all better." He jokes, and then smiles. A grin tugs on my lips, and chuckle lightly. I go to sit back on my stool, but he stops me. "Young master, if you could kindly wait in the drawing room. Please occupy yourself for the time being. Supper won't be ready for a while, and I need to go out for some ingredients anyway." He shoos me away from the table top, and down the hall. "I'll be back soon" He says from the doorway, a list in his hand. I narrow my eyes, but stay silent. I walk back to my study, and sit down. He's not going to the market. He never brings a list of ingredients with him. He's going somewhere else. He lied to me.


	4. 4

I sit dumbfounded on the couch, staring at the wall. He's not allowed to lie to me. How is it possible? What could that list of said? He never needs a list. He's a bloody demon; he could memorize the dictionary if he wanted, yet not a few simple ingredients. That means he's going to visit somebody, somebody that he needs to show something to.

Who does he need to see? And why would he have to hide it from me? It must be something important then. He shouldn't be keeping secrets from his master.

I can't confront him about this. I need to find out more about what is in his journal. Ha, it's almost like a diary. Sebastian, the big scary demon, keeps a diary. It's quite strange that he felt the need to write everything down. Maybe he wanted to show it to a psychologist. I can't imagine Sebastian lying down on the couch, telling his deepest secrets to some random person. He would feel that they had an unfair advantage, a weak point over his head. Plus he's the type of person that would deal with it head on.

I think of all the times Sebastian has been headstrong. When he fought Ash, Grell, when he… got information out of that nun. I hadn't realized it before, but he is such a powerful demon. Well… at least I think he is. I haven't met another one other than Alois'. I wonder if they're all like that. I've heard him tell me stories, how demons usually share one strong trait from the seven sins.

_Lust. Gluttony. Greed. Sloth. Wrath. Envy. Pride._

He told me about all the other demons and she-demons, how some are intensely unique, rare, different. How exquisite they were. How beautiful.

He hasn't told me which trait he carries, and I'm not sure if I want to know. He could be wrath. I can see him holding the Wrath trait. He's so angry sometimes, but very controlled. I know Claude held the trait of Gluttony. He abandoned his own meal to come after me. He fought to the death, just for a meal. Incredible really, what demons will do for a soul. He was willing to fight for his life, to win me.

Why was I so important? Sebastian, Claude and Hanna were all fighting for me. How odd... I wonder what it is about my soul is irresistible. I'm glad I summoned Sebastian. I could never admit it, but lately I've realized how much of a constant he is in my life. He was there when nobody else was. He's seen me at my weakest, my strongest. But that does make him much more dangerous. He could exploit all of that against me. And I've been worrying. He's been so distant lately, and he could just leave at any moment.

After Hanna sabotaged our contract, I was changed into a demon. Most terrifying time in my life. But Sebastian called unto Satan, begging for me to be changed back. He complied, but I was cursed by the demon change. The human who couldn't age. The contract was still in effect. We came back, but not to London. Everybody thought I was dead. I couldn't return. I didn't have the courage to face everything that had happened. So we left, travelling the world. We stay for a few years, living in the biggest house. Sebastian makes all the money, I'm not sure how. Maybe he robs banks. But then we leave. Disappear in the middle of the night, and move across the ocean. He seemed unhappy. Because Claude lied in their contract, everything became mixed up. Sebastian doesn't know how to finish the contract anymore. So I gave him an option; to stay with me, or to kill me and leave. I would be happy either way.

He just smiled, and kept walking. He never answered me, and he's still here. He can feed whenever he likes, he can do as he likes, but he always comes back to me. Every time. But lately... I'm not so sure if he wants to stay. He seems unhappy.

I hold my head in my hands, and feel my throat become tight. I would rather be dead than him leave. I rub my temples, trying to rid the dull ache pounding in my skull. I grip the armrest, and push myself up from the couch. No more of this serious thinking, I can figure this out later. Sebastian will only be gone for so long and I need to read more out of his journal. My feet scuffle against polished floors, and I stop into the kitchen. I climb up into the counter, and open the cupboards. The best part about Sebastian being gone is that he doesn't know if I do something I shouldn't. I dig through the shelves, and find what I'm looking for; chocolate. I keep a stash of Belgiums' finest chocolate here, and he doesn't know. I throw it on the island, and crawl my way back down the counter, my foot slipping. I reel back, and almost fall, when I catch myself, gripping the ledge of the countertop. I carefully scoot down the rest of the way, and grab the bag of chocolates. Travelling around the world has its perks; I've gotten to try so many new desserts. I sometimes ask Sebastian to make them. He usually gets them right. I smile at the thought of him trying to make beef wellington. He burnt it to the ground after messing up the entire thing. He was so angry, he went on a vacation. Literally, left for three days, and came back with no voice and broken knuckles. I bet he spent his whole time - wherever he was - punching trees, rocks, buildings, and screaming in rage. Sebastian doesn't do stuff wrong. His first time making human food was different, he failed miserably, but back then he wasn't used to getting everything 'human-like' right.

Stuffing a Godiva chocolate in my mouth, I walk down the hallway toward the servants' quarters. Times still haven't changed; servants are still tucked away, unnoticed. I remember a few years back, I met a strange old man. His name was Felix, and he had his workers room on the same level as him. How absurd! He said that even though they were his servants, he treated them with respect and equality. I snorted at the idea, servants and nobles  _equal_. I didn't stay with him long; I was just visiting for the day.

The mansion is empty, thankfully. The maids have this evening off, so I don't have to hide from anybody. I pass the lavatory, and continue on to Sebastians' room. I enter quickly, and shut the door behind me. Once again, I search around for the matches in the dark. In my blind hunt for the box, my hands hit something. It teeters, and crashes to the ground. I wince, and continue searching for the matches. No point in trying to see what it is if I can't see at all. My fingers fumble over the cardboard box, and I quickly light the wick. The room is filled with a muted light, and I look down to the floor. The object is face down. I pick it up, and examine it more closely. It's a picture frame. The frame itself is quite old, worn with age. I look at the photo, and squint. It's such a dark picture. I shine the candle closer to it, and gasp. It's me, when I was younger, with Mum and Dad. Sebastian sits beside me, his tail wagging. We look happy. But there's blood splattered on it, and the edges are burned slightly. I don't even remember this being taken, but it's from a long time ago. I take a shaky breath, and put the photo down where it originally was. I don't have time to process why he has that, I need to read some more out of his journal. I bring the candle over to his dresser and pull out the tattered leather-bound book. I open the pages, and start reading.

_**She looked stunning today. She looks gorgeous every day, but today she was especially beautiful. But it was for their wedding photo. They are sending out invitations for a party they are hosting. His company has just reached highest sales, and they feel the need to celebrate. That just means more work for me.** _

_**I hope everything goes smoothly tomorrow. My master seems to be tense, probably about the party. He has been locked up in his study for most of the day, while my mistress entertains herself with reading. She hasn't cried in a few days now, which is a good sign, surely. But I can't help but get the feeling that something bad is about to happen soon.** _

Sebastian seems really stressed about this whole thing. I can't imagine why, you would think he cared for his mistress, whoever she was. It must have been a while ago, seeing as he's been serving me for the past eight years.

_**I was right. The master got very angry at her for stepping out of line. She had a bit too much wine, and was telling embarrassing stories about their past. Everyone thought it was quite hysterical, except for him. He was brimming with rage, and ended the party early. Said that he had some urgent business to attend to, and couldn't be distracted. I saw the whole thing happen.** _

_**He dragged her into the drawing room, where I was quietly hidden behind the corner, dusting. They didn't even notice me. I didn't hear what he was saying; he spoke in a hushed tone. She looked more terrified than if he was shouting. He gripped her wrist like a vice as she tried to turn away. He spoke in her ear, menacingly. He slapped her across the face, and she doubled over, trying to protect herself. But he just kicked her in the stomach. He hit her again, and I could hear the whimpers coming from her. My heart constricted, and I wanted so badly to tear him limb-from-limb. I wanted him dead. But I couldn't do anything. So I had to watch her get beaten.** _

_**By the time he was finished, she could barely stand. Her breathing was so laboured, it was hard to tell if she was or not. He left the room, but not after spitting on her. The door shut, and she fell to the ground, weeping. I rushed over, and held her, letting her sob into my chest. We didn't say anything.** _

_**Finally, by the time her eyes were dried, it was almost dawn. I smoothed her hair, touching her face with my gloves. She looked so beautiful, even after crying. She stared into my eyes, and all I saw was pools of blue. Like the ocean. She raised her head up, and softly touched her lips to mine. My eyes widened at the unexpected act, and instantly kissed her back.** _

_**It was the first time we kissed. So bittersweet, filled with pain and jealousy. It wasn't our last. But everything about it made that kiss so much more special.** _

Shocked, I close the book back up, and tuck it away. I put another chocolate in my mouth, glad that I can use my hands again. What an outrageous thing to do. How could he kiss his mistress! A servant and master, how devious. And extremely unacceptable. His mistress was a wanton creature. Turning on her husband, and for a servant no less! I cringe in disgust. I can't believe Sebastian would have the audacity to kiss his mistress! How repulsive.

I scan the room, making sure everything is where it should be. Sebastian would obviously notice something was out of place the minute he walked in, but I don't think he's been here lately. Thankfully. I glance one last time at the photograph, and then blow out the candle.


	5. 5

I walk quietly out of his room, shutting the door quietly behind me. I scoff at the idea of him kissing his mistress, and going behind his master' back. It's disgusting. I shake my head. I can't be thinking of these things right now. Sebastian will be home any second, and I need to create an alibi if he asks me what I've been doing. I stroll down the hallway, and head back in to the kitchen. I climb up the counter again, and place my uneaten chocolates back in to their hiding spot. Can't have Sebastian finding these. He'd have a fit. I tuck them behind the bonito flakes. He used these to make stock for a Japanese soup I asked for. I heard good things about in when we lived in Hiroshima, down in Japan. I thought it would have been good. It was dreadful. It might have been Sebastian, but I highly doubt it. I asked him to never make it again. So he never goes up here to get these. Perfect hiding spot.

I'm sitting at my desk, building a mansion with Lincoln logs when there's a knock at my door. I hoarsely say "Come in" and continue working on my project. I don't look up, because I know its Sebastian. His eyes are on me, I can feel it. Years from experiencing the feeling over the years. I hear him chuckle under his breath, and I know he's laughing at me. Cocky bastard. I roll my eyes, and then look up at him.

"Do you find me amusing?" I say my voice sharp like a whip. I try for stern, and unamused, but it's no use. He's still grinning like a child on Christmas morning. He laughs again, a little louder this time.

"Yes I do." He stalks over to me, and leans right up in to my face.  
"You've got a little," He runs his thumb over the corner of my mouth. "Chocolate." He smirks, and licks the small bit of chocolate off his finger. He smiles, and leans back. My face is burning up; I can practically see the red on my cheeks. I turn my head away, and don't answer. I secretly wipe my mouth on the back of my hand, and see that there are little traces of chocolate smeared on my skin. I blush harder, and try to appear unaffected by his find. But it's impossible with him staring at me like that. I try to contain the small bubble of laughter trying to force its way out, but it's getting harder by the second. Finally I burst, small giggles spill out of my lips as I laugh at the awkwardness and hilarity of this whole thing. He smiles too, a heart-stopping smile, as I continue to laugh.

"Alright, alright." I say when I recover from my fit of giggles. It's so unusual for me to laugh like that. I take in a deep breath, and then let it out all at once, composing myself.  
"What do you need? I'm building paradise" I say, gesturing my hand towards my unfinished masterpiece, the Lincoln Logs mansion.

"I came to tell you it's almost time for you to retire. Would you like tea tonight, or maybe some warm milk? You look tired." He asks me, concern laced in his voice. I look up at him again, and think. My voice is still sore, so maybe I'll take him up on his offer of warm milk. It's been such a long time since he's offered.

"Warm milk please. I'll be in my room." I say, and set down the wooden log I was holding. I will most definitely finish this tomorrow. He smiles at me, and nods his assent, then turns to leave.  
"Oh and Sebastian?" I call, stopping his leave. He twists to face me, questioningly. "Can I have extra honey this time?" I ask timidly, embarrassed. I don't let him see me this shy or embarrassed often, but I want something comforting tonight. It's been a hell of a day. He nods again, and leaves the room.

I slip the last button through its slot, and tug down on the shirt lightly. I've learned how to dress myself now, seeing as it's been years of watching Sebastian do it. I'm wearing my favourite pyjamas; they are fleece, navy blue, and have sail boats on it. I hug myself, picking up my blanket. It is also fleece, forest green with cream trimming. I pull it around me, reveling in the warmth it brings. These were a gift from Elizabeth and her parents, for my last birthday before I left. They still fit, seeing as I haven't changed. They bring me comfort, especially on cold days like today. I quickly climb in to bed, careful that none of my secrets are showing. Sebastian doesn't know I have these either. I do keep some secrets from him. I'm very careful. He would never let this go if he found these.

I miss Lizzy. I miss Lizzy and Finnian and Bard and Meyrin and Agni and Prince Soma, and Beast and Doll and Joker and Snake. I miss them all. But I had to go. The worst part about it is that I never get to see them again. I remember one time, when we left to go gather my belongings from the mansion; I swear I saw Lizzys head of blonde hair in the graveyard outside. The most awful part about it was that she was wearing black. I know how much she hates the color black.

It was so dreadful seeing her mourning. She didn't see me, but I know that it was her. My grave has been there since the fire, when everyone though I perished along with my parents. But no. It was never taken out. Rightly so, because they got to use it a few years later. How ironic.

Sebastian comes in my room, and he's holding a platter with warm milk and honey. I smile tentatively, and let out a big yawn. My jaw cracks quietly from the stretch.

'Thank you Sebastian." I say, while he prepares my drink.

"You're most welcome." HE looks up, and a puzzled look flits across his face, but it disappears. Probably wondering how I got myself dressed. I chuckle, and reach for the tea, aware that he stands beside me, rather closely. I sigh, drinking in the sweet milk. It flows easily down my throat, and soothes the raw aching skin. I swallow, and for once there isn't any pain accompanied with it. Perhaps the sore throat is going away. .

"Sir, Thursday evening I have been invited to a party a close friend of mine is hosting. I would like you to accompany me. Is that all right? Nobody will recognize you, but you'll meet some of my other friends." HE tells me.

"That's fine, I will come. Prepare something for me to wear though." I tell him, and go back to drinking my tea. My eyelids are heavy, and I find it a struggle to keep them open. I hear Sebastian laugh at my fatigue, and he takes away my cup, and tucks me in to the sheets. Blowing out the light, he retreats.

"Good night my lord." He whispers faintly, and I fall in to a dark forbidden world, unexplored. I wander mindlessly, trying to search out for something, but everything is shrouded in black. Hidden by the shadows.


	6. 6

"Sebastian, stop it! I can do it myself!"

"Clearly you can't! Now hold still."

"NO! STOP! IT HURTS!"

"Just a little bit longer."

"Get the fuck away! I can fucking do it myself!"

He gapes at me. His mouth is hanging open in shock.

"Young Master! How dare you speak with such disrespectful and filthy words!" He admonishes me, and goes back to work. I sit in the chair, my arms crossed in front of my chest, pouting. I am placed in front of a large mirror, and Sebastian stands behind me, combing all the knots out of my disheveled hair. I'm in my formal attire, dress pants, vest, and jacket. Bow tie. It's all very uncomfortable. I wriggle around, trying to get a little more comfortable, but it's not working. The fabric just scratches at my skin.

Sebastian has changed out of his usual clothes and is wearing a dashing snug suit. It fits him well. His hair is combed and gelled back for once. It's a nice change. He is in the process of doing my hair so it looks good for tonights' party. But I managed to get syrup in it, so now there's a whole bunch of tangles. And he's not being gentle.

He yanks on a particularly large knot, and I cry out.

"Get off! I can do it myself!" I yell at him, and hit him in the chest. He doesn't budge, but my hand hurts. Muscle as hard as rock. Jeez. He doesn't say anything; he just continues to brush my hair. He sprays more water on my hair, in hopes of making it easier. I sigh. I did say that I would go to his party, but now I'm regretting it. I didn't sign up for torture like this.

When he can finally run the comb through my hair without it catching on anything, he opens up the small container of gel. Dipping his fingers in the scentless cream, he spreads it in to my hair, and runs his fingers through it. This part I can handle. This part I like. He combs it through again, and finishes. I look very classy and sophisticated. It's weird. My hair doesn't usually look like this.

"Alright, I'm done. We will be leaving shortly. Don't mess up my masterpiece. I'm going to get the carriage ready." He tells me, his eyes looking straight at me. I know it shouldn't be, but it's slightly scary the way his demonic aurora comes out. When he's angry, or sad, it's like he's radiating his emotions. He turns sharply, and stalks out of the room. I think I might have offended him. Or maybe he's just pissy. I didn't even do anything bad. He should be relaxing. He's going to be at a party in less than two hours. I don't even know where it is.

I look in the mirror, and see my reflection. A wide blue eye, staring back. The black eye patch covering the other. I keep it on, but now because it's just a habit. The contract is still there, but it doesn't bother me anymore. I pick at my hair, but stop immediately when I see Sebastians eyes staring at me in my mind. He could probably hear me from all the way in the courtyard. As if on cue, he appears in the mirror, standing in the door way, glaring at my hand in midair.

"Were you touching it?" He growls, still staring at me. I drop my hand guiltily, and cast my eyes to the ground.

"Yes" I mumble, keeping my head low.

"What was that? I didn't hear you." He says. I scoff. I know he heard me, he's a freaking demon. It would be impossible for him  _not_  to hear me. He wants the satisfaction of humiliating me.

"Yes." I say a little louder.

"Sorry, I'm getting old. One more time." He says. I keep my eyes on the ground, my back to him

"I said yes!" I yell, fed up with his games. I whirl around to look at him, but step back. He's right in front of me. Towering over my short stature, as I cower slightly.

"That's what I thought." He whispers, and bends down to my height. My breathing becomes shallower. I know we didn't last very long when we tried to take our relationship further, but I can still feel that pull. The lust. I see his pupils dilate, but don't dare to move. I know he's not stable right now. His hand moves around to the back of my head, and I take a quiet intake of air. His face stays the same, no smirk I was expecting. I can feel his fingers by my hair, but he doesn't do anything. He pulls softly, and the sound of cloth rubbing against cloth is heard. My eye patch is loose, and then falls off. He untied the string. He catches the patch in his other hand, and tucks it in to his front pocket.

"I want this off for the party. Let everybody see that you're mine." He whispers in my ear, and stands back up to his full height. I nod quietly, but keep my mouth shut. He fixes the small part of hair that I touched, and smiles. "There, perfect. The carriage is ready. We should leave now if we want to get there in time." He says, and gestures for me to leave. I take one more look in the mirror, and walk out of the room.

He holds the door open for me, as I walk in to the crowd. It's strange, not the type of party I expected. I thought maybe there would be lots of loud music, sweaty demons, dirty dancing. It's just like a party I would host. Ladies in fancy dresses, men in their finest suits. Everybody socialising. It's quite strange. Sebastian is right behind me, watching me. I gulp, slightly intimidated, but walk in anyway. I let Sebastian lead, because he's the one who knows people here. I'm not usually daunted by parties and stuff like this, but being surrounded by demons is quite alarming. Maybe that's why Sebastian took off my eye patch. A demon wouldn't take anothers contract. Well, Claude and Hanna were different. Alois had rubbed off on them. His hate and greed. Sebastian watches me out of the corner of his eye, while keeping an eye on everyone else around us. He must be very popular in the underworld, because he is waved at often, and nods a hello. We are walking towards the table at the back, which has been laid with food and drinks. He hands me a flute of champagne, and takes some for himself.

"Well, let's do this. Don't leave my sight. I don't want anybody getting too friendly. There are people here you can't trust." He warns me, and takes a sip of champagne. I do too, nodding my head absently. I look around the room. One man in particular stands out, with electric blonde hair. He is talking to a group of men, but he looks over at us. I can't see what he says, but he excuses himself, and makes his way over to us.

Sebastian looks over, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He sets his champagne down, and strides over to the mystery man. I follow quietly behind.

"Nathaniel! I didn't expect you to be here." He greets him, and pulls him in to a hug. They must know each other fairly well, because the greeting is comfortable and friendly. There's no hesitation or awkwardness. They clap each other on the back, and then this Nathaniel pulls away, holding Sebastian at an arms length, his hands on his shoulders.

"You haven't changed a bit Sebastian. Maybe a little soft around the edges," He teases, poking Sebastian in the side. "Other than that, you're still the same. Though I always thought you looked different from when you were a kid…" He trails off, and Sebastian steps aside, and puts his hand on my back, pushing me forward a bit.

"Nate, this is Ciel. My… uhh…" He stutters, trying to think of something on the spot. I'm not his meal, not anymore. But the contract is still in place. So what does that make me? What am I?  
"My friend, Ciel Phantomhive." He goes with friend. I guess that's neutral, for now. "Ciel, Nathaniel Thorn. Close friend of mine. Actually one of my best. We met when I started the plague way back when. He helped me out, and we've stayed friends ever since." Sebastian explains. Nathaniel sticks his hand out towards me, and I shake it. His hands are really warm, considering he's a demon. Sebastians' skin is always freezing cold. But his… His is hot to the touch. I pull my hand back, and secretly wipe the thin layer of sweat off of my palm, gagging. Disgusting. I would rather shake Sebastians' hand, at least its better temperature.

"It's a pleasure to meet you. How long have you two been together?" He asks, no judgement in his voice. I blanch, and stare at him. What?  
"What do you mean?" I ask him, gaping.  
"Well, you two are partners, aren't you?" He asks, shock in his voice. My eyebrows shoot up, and my eyes widen. Sebastian beats me to the answer before I can do it myself.  
"No, no, no, just friends.  _Just_  friends. Nothing more." He rushes, and I think I can hear slight embarrassment in his voice. Maybe I should play this up a bit, watch him squirm.  
"Don't be shy Sebastian, he won't judge us." I say, tucking my arm through his. He stares down at me, his mouth open wide in shock. "I've known him for almost eight years now, but we've been together for almost a year and a half now." I tell Nathaniel, snuggling deep in to Sebastian.  
"That's wonderful you two. Always knew this one was sort of strange." Nate says, nodding towards Sebastian, and he smiles at both of us. Sebastian is staying quiet, not wanting to seem foolish, but I can see a droplet of sweat running down his neck. He's getting tense. He's embarrassed. Perfect.

Nathaniel looks down to my hand, then looks puzzled.  
"Sebastian, are you gonna.. Ya know… ask him?" He says, wriggling his eyebrows. I don't understand. Ask what? What does he need to ask me?

Sebastian looks at Nathaniel, and smirks. What, is it a private joke or something?  
"Actually, I am. Tonight." He says slyly. What's he doing tonight? He shifts, and takes the arm I'm holding, and wraps it around my waist, pulling me closer. He kisses the top of my head, and I stiffen. Now he's playing, and I'm going to lose. Definitely.

"When?" Nate asks, and he's smiling brightly. I still don't understand. Ask what?  
"Now." Sebastian says, and turns to me. He pulls away, and reaches in to his jacket pocket.

"Ciel." He says, drawing out my name. He's still digging around in his pocket. What could he be looking for? I cock my hip, bored with guessing. I'm just about to ask him what's going on, when he drops to one knee. I can't see what's in his hand.

"Ciel, I know it hasn't been very long. But I love you. Will you," He says, and pops open a small velvet box, containing a gold ring. "Marry me?" He asks, a smirk tugging on his lips. I stare at him, dumbfounded. Shocked, I don't say anything. This is part of the game. What move do I have to make to win? I know for a fact that he doesn't want to kiss me. Not full on anyway. What we had was strictly sexual, no lovey-dovey kisses. He was never that type of guy. He even told me once that he didn't like it. So he will squirm indefinitely if I kiss him.

I can say no, and let him make a fool out of himself. But that wouldn't bother him much. Not at all actually. He could brush it off without another glance. But if I say yes… He wouldn't be expecting it at all. Though I'm repulsed by the idea, it's the only way to win. I take a deep breath, and force out fake tears of happiness.

"Yes, of course yes. Oh my god yes, of course." I gush, letting the staged tears spill down my face. I grin like a lunatic, and put on my best performance. He blinks a little at me, then stands up, sliding the ring on to my finger. I'll have to ask him where he got it. And why he brought it too. I inspect the ring, smiling down at it, then fling my arms around his neck. I bring my mouth up to his, and have my first real kiss in months. He's not expecting it, and his mouth involuntarily opens, letting me take charge and slip my tongue in. It's repulsing, but I'd rather kiss him than lose. I weave my fingers through his black hair, and tug slightly, adding effect. I hope Nathaniel is watching, because this is for you.

He pulls away first, breathless and shocked. He hides it well, but I can see the anger brewing deep in his eyes. He steps back from me, but keeps grabs my hand instead.

Nathaniel is gushing, smiling like a lunatic.

"Congratulations you guys! I'm so happy for you Sebastian." He cheers, and hugs him straight away. I let go of his hand, and drop the act when Nates' back is turned. I glare back at Sebastian from behind Nate. I can feel his anger and discomfort, but I know I'll be safe while the party's going on. Nathaniel lets Sebastian go, and hugs me too. I bristle, but hug him back after a beat.

"We're going to go get something to drink, I'll see you later." Sebastian says, and leads me away, back to the table we were at before. He's mad. I know it. But I can't help but smile that I won.

"How could you do that?! Disgusting, repulsive, unnecessary kiss. You know how I feel about that." He whispers harshly in my ear. I ignore him, and pick up a chocolate square. I don't answer, and instead eat. I just eat while we stand there, silently brooding. He's stiff and cold.

I work the ring off my finger, and discreetly hand it back to him. He takes it without a word, and puts it back in the box.

"I win." Is all I say, and walk off towards the bar. I need a drink. Or two, or three. Or five. I need to wash out the taste of Sebastian from my mouth. Maybe I'll get drunk in the process, and forget this whole thing ever happened.


	7. 7

I stride over to the bar, and lean against the glossy dark wood ledge. There are a few other people around me, but most are in the ballroom, chatting away about their silly little lives. How shallow and conceited they are. It's dimly lit here, shady lights casting shadows on to the tables and people, reflecting off a glass or two. A bar tender tosses the white cloth over his shoulder, the one he was just using to polish a glass, and places an elbow on the counter in front of him.

"What can I get you sir?" He asks loudly, trying to speak over the music playing. I don't look at him straight away, I watch the two giggling girls, who are dancing wildly on a table. They grind against each other to the beat of the music, and they have half their clothes ripped off. I can see so much skin. And no matter how disgusted I am with them, about how indecent and wanton they are, I find it hard to tear my gaze off them. Just before I do, they start to go lower, dancing lower to the ground. I intake a sharp breath of air, and hiss through my teeth when I see the second girls undergarments. So hot, it's getting hot in here. My pants are strained. I want to go over there, go dance with them, even though they are so outrageous. Outrageous, and yet I am tantalized with how they move with each other.  
The bartender clears his throat, and I rip my gaze off of the two girls, and look at him. He's waiting expectantly, though he seems a little embarrassed, probably by how those girls were dancing, and how I was watching them. He glances over to his other customers, checking if they need anything else. His hair, once styled back, is now slightly droopy, hanging down on his forehead. The white dress shirt he's wearing has the sleeves rolled up, and yet it still looks a little dirty. Probably from drinks splashing up. I look at him, and see my straight, but tired face reflected in his shiny eyes. I need a drink, now.

"You're strongest brandy. With ice." I order, and slide twenty pounds across to him. He slips the money in to the front pocket of his black apron, and pulls out a short glass. He drops two ice cubes in to the glass, and pours the liquor in to the glass. It goes up half way, bringing the ice up to the top, before he pulls the bottle back. Sliding it over across the bar, he leans against the wood surface. I pick up my glass, and drink some of the amber liquid. It burns down my throat, and makes my nose tingle slightly. But it tastes good, and it will make me relax. Make me forget that disgusting kiss with Sebastian. Hopefully. The ice clinks against the clear glass, as I set it back down on the counter. The bartender has left, attending to some other customer that will pay him. As I lean back against the bar, I watch the room around me. Those girls are still dancing, grinding against each other. They shamelessly grab each others bodies. They ignore all the men that watch them, including me. But a few times I catch one of them, the blonde, sneaking a peak in my direction. I drink my brandy, and enjoy the show, even though I shouldn't. Sebastian is probably wondering where I am, although I could care less. He will still be mad about the kiss, and frankly, I'm pissed about him playing me like that. But I should have expected it. He's always tricking me in to things. What did he think I would do if he 'proposed'? Say no and walk away? He knows I'm not the kind of person to pass up the opportunity to embarrass him. It's happened often enough. And now here I am, sulking alone in a bar, shamelessly watching these two bold girls, drinking my third glass of brandy. It's starting to make my head pound a bit, and my visions slightly blurry. But I still ask the bartender to refill my glass, in hopes of drowning out tonights sickening memories.

"So this is where you've been hiding for the past hour." A voice says from beside me. I turn slowly, and see Nathaniel propped up against the bar. He waves the barkeeper over, and orders a round of shots for the both of us. I don't object.  
"What have you been doing this whole time?" He asks, then tips back his full-to-the-rim shot glass. He scrunches his nose a little, and lets out a harsh breath. I don't use words; I just lift up my empty brandy glass, and then nod to the girls, who are still dancing on the table. But another has joined them, and they are acting as though it's only them in the entire room. I wish I could just block out people like that, pretend it's just me. He lets out an "Ahhhh…" of understanding, and nods his head. I throw back my own shot, and feel the liquid sear its way down my throat. We stand in a comfortable silence, watching the girls.  
"It wasn't real, you know." I say, as the barkeeper sets down another round of shots. "It was staged, a game between him and I. It wasn't real." The confession hangs around in the air for a second, before dropping to the floor.  
"I know." He says simply, and takes his shot quickly. Each time his nose crinkles slightly, but it's the only sign of distaste. "Why would you be over here, watching those girls, without him if it was real?" He accuses, and places a hand on my shoulder. Instantly I can feel the heat seeping from his pores, flowing through the thick materiel of my jacket. I try to ignore it. "You know, you're not the first Phantomhive that I've met." He says. I turn and look at him quizzically, but he's ordering a plate of nachos from the bartender. He nods, and walks away, leaving Nathaniel and I.  
"Really?" I ask, intrigued about this new information. Nate nods, and looks at me.  
"Really. Sebastian introduced us actually, said they were lovers. He stole her heart, and they had quite the affair. She was married, of course. So it made it all the more scandalous." He tells me, as I find myself caught up in the story. "He said she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and that it was the first time he had fallen in love. He thought that she was her soul mate." He says, his voice rich with envy. It might be the girl from his journal. I need to read more of it when we go home.  
"What happened to her?" I ask. He looks up from the counter, and in to my eyes.  
"She died. I don't know how, he won't tell me. All I know is that he hasn't been the same since. You should have seen the way his eyes lit up when he talked about her. He really was in love. And then the light sort of went… out one day. I asked him what was wrong, and he didn't say anything. Just hid away for many years. One day he came back, saying that he made a terrible mistake, and he couldn't fix it. That's all he said." The bartender places the nachos in front of him, and leaves quietly. Nathaniel picks one up, and crunches through the hard chip. "He went back, to visit her, only to find her dead. She had died a month before he went. And… that's it." He finishes. I want to know more. Who was she, how long ago. Nathaniel looks at his watch, and his eyebrows shoot up.  
"Look at the time, I really have to go. I've got a meeting to be at. Tell Sebastian my goodbyes. Thank you for the chat. It was lovely." He says hastily, digging through his wallet. He slams down a few hundred pounds on the counter. "Keep the change." He shouts, and rushes off out the door. I stand dumbfounded at his hasty leave, and finish off his shot and mine. Then eat the plate of nachos. Might as well, seeing as he isn't coming back. I pay the barkeeper, thanking him. The girls have gone, no longer dancing with each other. I had hoped to introduce myself, or get a name at the very least. They couldn't have been over twenty. Young things, seeing as I am visually 23. I look a lot younger than I am. I push through the glass door, and am greeted with the long corridor I walked down after Sebastian and I's little performance. At least the taste of his mouth is out of mine. I unsteadily walk down the hallway, and come out at the top of the stairs in the ballroom. The stairs loom before me, dauntingly. I don't know if they're such a good idea, but it's the only way to the front door. I see Sebastian across the room, leaning against the far wall, watching me. I smirk, and take the first step down. Or at least, I try. But it moved. It must have moved, because I trip. I trip over my own two feet, and catch myself on the railing. I take a shaky breath, and look up. Sebastian has moved from his relaxed position on the wall, to standing stock-still twenty feet away. His eyes are wide open in alarm, and he looks shocked. He thought I was going to fall. Ha.

My head feels weightless, and the room is turning. Violently spinning, round and round. My stomach turns, and everything is turning darker. My grip on the railing loosens, and I crumple to the ground, and fall. But everything goes black before I can see where I land.

"It seems I am always catching you when you fall." A voice says, as it fades in to regular volume. My headache is hammering away on my skull, and my stomach feels rocky at best. My eyes open, and I heave. But a bucket is placed in front of me as I spill the contents of my stomach in to it. Alcohol tastes a lot worse coming up than it does going down. I vomit in to the basin, until all of my stomach has been emptied. But even then my body is wracked with horrible convulsions, dry heaving. Trying to dispose of anything. But there's nothing left in my stomach, so I just heave. Aching, dry heaves that hurt my whole body.  
It finally subsides, but my headache is still here, pounding with a vengeance. My body aches everywhere, and my mouth tastes like a sewer. "You really shouldn't have drank that much, it's not healthy." Sebastian chastises me, as I lay back against the pillows. He hands me a glass of orange juice, and I gulp it down gratefully. It leaves my mouth tasting much better, and soothes my throat. I just want to sleep. "Drink this, please Young Master." He asks of me, and hands me a steaming cup of tea. I take tentative sips, until it is all gone.  
"Please, just leave me to sleep." I say quietly, closing my eyes once more. I feel the weight of Sebastian lift from my bed, as I drift off.

It is dark here, nothing to see. Drums beat all around me, vibrating my whole body. I am slick with sweat, as I run. But I am running from nothing, to nothing. There isn't anything around me, just the darkness. I am running in the dark, where nothing and everything can hurt me. My darkest fears lurk in the dark, in the shadows. A beautiful woman appears, before me, shining soft light. She radiates beauty, and I watch her, in a trance. Sebastian emerges beside her, and they look at each other adoringly. But they mood of the dream changes, and they shift in to something evil, something wicked. Burned and cut, blooding pouring from their eyes, nose, and mouths. They morph in to each other. They drip on to the floor, their melted skin. But then it flashes back, to the two of them gazing in to each others' eyes. Then back again. Rapidly switching from the first and second. I jolt awake, a thick layer of sweat covering me. My dark hair is plastered to my forehead, and I try to slow my breathing. My heart is beating erratically, and my headache is back again. I need to finish his journal, and find out who this mystery girl is. I won't be able to rest until I do. This secret of his is too big not to find out.


	8. 8

Though Sebastian has returned to his normal routine, I still find myself watching him. He doesn't make any more mistakes, which is a bonus. But I can't help but think that he's hiding something bigger. And that I'll be able to find it in his journal.

I've been doing a lot of paperwork the past few days. It's so dull, and it's getting on my nerves. I haven't had a break all week. Just when I think I've finished, brand new papers come in, demanding that I review them, sign them, and copy them. I barely have time to eat, let alone take a break. My ass has become so desensitized to my soft plush chair that it could be wood and I wouldn't feel it.

I've just recently bought up a company, a weapons manufacture. They have sent me every prototype that they have created. It's the only time I do get a break, to test out the weapons. Sebastian has set up a testing course, with dummies and targets that I can shoot at.

They've sent me several guns so far, all of which I have agreed with for production. Several throwing knives, one spear, and a cross bow. The latter didn't go so well, it was an awful design anyway.

"Nice shot My Lord." Sebastian praises me, as he walks over to receive the knife I just stuck in to the target 25 feet in front of me. He has painted several rings on a thick fabric, to show my aim. My knife is hilt-deep in the yellow marked area, close to the red center. He rips it out of the fabric with ease, and passes it to me.  
"Try for the center this time. Focus on precision." He advises me, and I take up my stance. I hold the knife in my hand, and breathe deeply, concentrating on the red circle at the center of the target. I look down at the ground, let the breath out, then throw.

The knife flies through the air, plunging deep in to the target, just shy of the red circle. Just outside the edge. I curse, as Sebastian retrieves the knife.

"You will get it with time." He says, and I glare up at him. I don't need his sympathetic pity. I will get it. He smirks at me, a cocky, ball-busting smirk that makes me want to rip his face off his head.

"I know." I snarl, and snatch the knife away from him. He looks at me strangely for a moment then holds out his hand.

"It's not a good idea to practice when you're angry. You will lose focus and miss, resulting only in more anger. Give me the knife." He says, and extends his hand closer to me. I don't care. Fuck this. I angrily place the knife in his hand, and stomp off to my room.

I don't need his advice, I was doing just fine. Who says I can't throw when I'm angry? He doesn't know anything. I don't care that he can hit the center with his eyes closed. He was just doing it to show off.

I biff one of my throw pillows against the wall, where it hits a painting of my original manor. It's the only thing I have left of it. We moved around too often to carry much. All around Europe and Eastern Asia, all the while buying up companies and making money. It crashes to the floor with a loud bang, and I race to pick it up. It's not torn, just a small piece of the frame chipped. I carefully place it back on the wall. I can't break this.

Sebastian comes bursting through my door, whipping his head around.

"What happened, I heard a loud bang." He says, his eyes finally fixing on me, as he lets out a sigh of relief. His mops his forehead with a handkerchief, and opens the door a little more. "Sorry my lord, I thought something happened to you. I should have knocked." He apologizes quickly. I nod, distracted by the painting, my anger gone. He exits my room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

"Sebastian!" I shout, calling him back to my room. He knocks, then peaks his head out through the door.

"Yes My Lord?" He says expectantly.

"I want you to go to that small bookstore in Italy, to retrieve any and all books that are not informational. I've read through all of the ones here. All that is left is text books that I have no taste for." I order, glancing back at the painting. I want to go with him, to choose which books I want, but I need him out of the house. He can't be here when I go through his journal again.

"Very well My Lord." He says. "I will leave in the morning." I dismiss him. Stripping all my clothes off, I climb in to bed naked, exhausted. It's so hot in here. It's starting to get warm out, and I can't cool down my room. I lay with a thin sheet lain over me, as I drift off to sleep, all anger and frustration forgotten at the look of a painting.

* * *

As soon as I hear the carriage drive away, I my eyes snap open. Sebastian decided to let me sleep in after yesterdays practice. I scramble out of bed, desperate to untangle myself from the cacoon of sheets I managed to encase myself last night, twisting and turning. I quickly pull a shirt over my head, and some loose pants, and barrel down to the dining hall. Food is waiting for me, spread out over the entire table; A personal buffet just for me. Piling my plate high with food, I sit at my usual spot at the head of the table. The food tastes delicious, but his journal is distracting me.

Maybe it will tell me more about this other Phantomhive that Sebastian met. She seems very intriguing. I hope I can trace back my lineage and see what her relation is to me. She's probably close. I doubt I knew her though. It would have been such a long time ago.

I finish my breakfast quickly, leaving the other servants to clean it up. They won't bother me, seeing as Sebastian is away. He's probably given them lots of things to do to keep themselves busy.

The hallway to the servants' quarters is quite dim compared to the rest of the house. I've gotten accustomed to the electric lights. This is the first house that we've had that has them. It's incredible; light at a flick of a switch. It's different than candle light, much more bright. Here there are still flames lighting the hallway.

I tiptoe down the corridor, and make it to Sebastians' door. I glance around to make sure nobody is close by then slip in to his room.

It's just as dark as it normally is, the curtains drawn at his window. As usual, I stumble around trying to find something I can hold on to until I find the matches. I would have those electric lights installed here if Sebastian actually came in to his room. It would be a waste of money and effort, but it would make it easier for me. I strike the match on the box, and it comes to life. The wick lights easily on the candle. I can finally see around me.

I dig through his top drawer again, and see that there is something new. A gold rose pin, tucked away underneath everything. It wasn't there last time. It looks old, at least ten years old. There is sense of familiarity to it, like I've seen it before somewhere. The feeling tugs at the back of my head, but I ignore it. I've probably never seen it before in my life, just something like it. I dismiss the thoughts, and pull out his journal.

_**I've done something terribly wrong. I can't believe it. My master will definitely beat my mistress is he finds out. I shouldn't have done it. But she was so tempting. So beautiful and ready. I couldn't resist.** _

_**I tried to deny her advances, but then she started taking her clothes off. Right in front of me! I couldn't believe what was happening. After her corset came off, I couldn't hold back. I pinned her up against the wall, and lifted her legs around my waist. I didn't care if she was married, or that her husband was abusive.** _

_**She moaned my name during the night, over and over. Calling out as she reached her climax, as she clenched around me. She gripped the sheets tightly, trying to hold on to reality. I peppered kisses all over her body, and made love to her all night long. It was exquisite, the feeling of her body against mine.** _

_**But while she slept, I was thinking. I worried. Not about me, and what I had just done. No, about what her husband would do to her. I was terrified that if he ever found out, he might kill her. I can't let that happen. I can't believe it, but I fell in love with a human. A rich, married, successful woman of all people.** _

I can't believe him! He had sex with his mistress! I can't believe that Sebastian, my butler Sebastian, the polite, incredible, perfect butler, had sex with his mistress. How absolutely repulsive. But almost sweet at the same time. I can't believe I think this, but he fell in love with her. He protected her when her husband was awful, when she cried, when she was hurt. Sebastian was the husband she always wanted.

Still, she was married. A prostitute at heart. Ugh. I need a name. If this is a Phantomhive, then I am ashamed. Ashamed of them, and their behaviour. I flip a few pages, and see that his writing is sloppy, shaky. Why?

_**She came to me tonight. Crying again. We haven't made love since that night, and I was worried. The husband and she are acting better now, he no longer beats her. They even make love. I could hear them. When I did I was filled with rage. She betrayed me, the only one I have ever loved. She went crawling back to that man. But sometimes, when she was talking to me, and we touched, her heart beat would quicken. Her face would flush, and she would bite her lip, trying to ignore the feeling.** _

_**"Sebastian" She said. "I know you must probably hate me. I loved what we did, but it was wrong. I made a promise to my husband, and I can't throw that away. No matter how much I love you, it must always be him. Always. I am sorry." Her exact words, the words that was able to break my heart. A few sentences shattered my small, black heart in to a million tiny pieces. I put up walls, thick steel walls to protect my torn heart. Nothing will ever get in again. She started crying. She said something that made my heart stop. Made my broken twisted heart stop.** _

_**"I'm pregnant."** _

_**I automatically reached my hand out towards her stomach, and felt the beating heart from within her. And I could tell… I could tell that it wasn't his. It wasn't that monster of a man, her husband. It was mine, and she knew. She knew it too.** _

_**I smiled at her, through the tears that were streaming down my face, I smiled. Because the woman I love was pregnant with my child.** _

_**"I haven't told him yet. I'm going to say that it's his." Yet again, my world, my happiness was ripped away.** _   
_**"He might hurt our baby, or you. I can't let that happen. No matter what, remember I love you." She said, then turned away.** _

There were water splotches on the pages, probably from when he was crying. I can't believe this. It's more of a story than real life. I feel so bad for Sebastian. Having everything in his life change, for the worse. And when he gets a small glimpse of hope and happiness, it's killed again. How excruciatingly painful would that be. I can't believe this.

_**It's only been a week since she told me she was pregnant with my child. I haven't talked to anybody since. Doing my job in silence. It hurts. It hurts everywhere. It physically hurts my chest when I see them celebrating about having a child. It hurts because it will never be mine. I will never be able to hold my child. Never.** _

_**They let me go today. Didn't need me was what her husband said. But my love told me it was easier for her not seeing the one she loves every day, when she knows she can't have me. I pack up everything I have, and wait for the carriage. I might as well go back home. I didn't even make a contract with that low life scum; I was too distracted by his wife. I take one last look at the house, and leave the happy family alone. I leave my child in the hands of the couple. Hopefully they will take good care of him.** _

There are water splotches on these pages too. I stop reading, and hide the book back underneath everything in his dresser drawer. I quietly exit the room, and try not to think of how much Sebastian misses his child, and who he is. I try not to think about what it would feel like to leave the only person you have ever loved.


	9. 9

The day is uneventful. Boring as usual. Nothing to do. Eat, sign papers, read documents, test weapons, stare at walls, think. BOOORRRIINNGG! For once I wish that my day was filled with excitement. Days roll by, each of them as insignificant as the last. The days get hotter, and longer.

Finally, I snap.

"Enough!" I shout at my desk, where stacks of papers sit. "I've had enough!" I yell, and push the desk away from me. It slides a dew feet across the floor, screeching painfully against the hardwood.

Sebastian looks up from the tax books, and stares at me.

"Enough of  _what_?" He asks, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. He stops filling in numbers, and carelessly looks over to the desk. Appearing indifferent about my outburst, ignoring the desk I've pushed away, he leans back in his chair, waiting for my answer.

"I've had enough of all of this!" I say loudly, gesturing to the whole room. "Of sitting in a desk all day, doing NOTHING!" I glare at the ceiling and shout louder. "I've had enough of the same rooms' day in and day out, the same routine, the same everything!" I drop my head to stare daggers at the innocent desk standing a few feet away. "And I've especially had enough with all this paper work!" I shout, then kick the desk another few feet. Papers fly off with the sudden jolt, and float to the floor.

"I want to do something else." I say, more quietly, looking back at Sebastian. "I want to go back and visit the old manor, to go visit England. And when we return, we will move out of Greece, and go to Spain." I order him, and he nods.

"Alright My Lord. I shall back the bags for England. A few days will be enough I presume. I will start packing right away." He says, and leaves. No doubt he will be done within the hour.

We have been driving for quite some time now. It's exhausting, traveling. I think at least. Every time I move, my ass tingles with sharp pains. It must have fallen asleep, because the seats are so hard in the carriage. I have tried sitting on a make-shift pillow of a folded jacket, but it hasn't helped. So I sit here, with a tingling ass and wrinkled coat, miserable.

We pull up a few hours later, thankfully. I don't know how much more I could take. Before Sebastian gets out of the carriage though, he looks at me.

"Listen closely. You must put your hood up before you leave the car. The servants are still here, but they think it is only me visiting. I will tell them I have a guest that is shy, and make them go away. Then we can enter. Alright Young Lord?" He instructs me, his hand on the handle. I nod, and he exits the carriage, then shuts the door. I look through a small crack of the curtain, and see the old servants. Meyrin and Bard are standing straight, with their eyes a little teary. Finny, however, is clinging on to Sebastian, sobbing in to his chest. I can hear him through the walls of the carriage, blubbering like a baby.

Sebastian just awkwardly pats him on the back, then removes the boys iron grip, freeing himself. He gives a quick, stiff hug to all three servants, talking to them when he's done. I can't hear what he's saying, but he gestures to the carriage. I quickly look away, pulling my head back from the curtain. They didn't see me, just the movement of the curtain, thank God.

When I think it's clear, I look back out of the crack, and see the three servants walking back inside the manor. I pull my hood up, and Sebastian opens my door.

"Come Young Lord. Let us see the manor once again." He says, holding out his hand for me to take. I step down out of the carriage, and hide my face. We are almost to the door, when he leans down to my level. "By the way, I told them you are a girl." He whispers in my ear, and strides through the open door, ignoring my death glare pinned on his back. "Fuck you" I mutter under my breath then walk in after him.

It hasn't changed a bit. Everything is still as it was, but maybe a little dustier. It doesn't seem to have fallen apart while they were away. The servants were able to keep it together, finally.

The three almost competent servants were nowhere to be seen as we walked throughout the house. We went back to my old room, to set our stuff down.

"Meyrin has prepared a guest bed for me to sleep in for the next few days. It isn't my original room. It's across the hallway, if you need anything just shout." He says, leaving me on my own.

I sit down on the freshly made bed, and fall back. This is the bed I know. The one that comforts me. It never got too hot in here. Everything is still in place. Exactly how I left it that day. I try not to think of anything else. There isn't much I can do in here, so I decide to go explore, see if there is anything that has changed.

So far I've been in the drawing room, the lounge, lavatories, and kitchen. Everything is the same. As if the servants didn't want to a thing. That's probably it, they're so sentimental. But I guess I am too, for wanting to come here. I missed it I guess.

I wander aimlessly down the halls, searching for nothing in particular. I find myself in front of a door. My parents' room. I sigh, and swallow back the lump forming in my throat. I might as well go in. Nothing to lose.

The door opens silently, as I slip through it. Dim light pours through the doorway, illuminating the dark room. The drapes have been drawn, shrouding the room in perpetual darkness. I walk over, pushing open the heavy curtains. Light streams through, catching on dust particles, the sun just starting to set. Its bright light shines on the bed. I look around the room, seeing the same everything in its place. Nobody has been in here since they died. Including me. I guess I'm the first.

The portrait of them stands talon one of the walls, the light not quite reaching the whole painting. It hides my father in the shadows, but shines on my mother. I move closer, inspecting the painting.

She sits there, a smile on her face, eyes happy and loving. They told me this was taken when they found out about Mom being pregnant with me. I guess that's why they are so happy. I smile, a small sad smile.

I turn to leave, when something catches my eye in the painting. On my mothers' dress, is a gold rose pin. The  _exact same gold rose pin from Sebastians' dresser._  What's it doing there, on my mother? Didn't it say in his journal that the mystery lady, the lady who cheated on her husband, her abusive husband, and was pregnant with Sebastians' child, wore a  _gold rose pin?_


	10. 10

Silence. That's all there was. Absolute silence. Nothing to cut through the soundless barrier. I can't hear a thing. Everything is blocked out, my senses cut off. I can't see anything except red. Everything is red, fury impairing the only vision I have from my good eye. Air comes rushing in through my nose, speeding in to my lungs at a fast rate, expelling harshly in to the still room. My fists are balled up, finger nails digging in to the palm of my hand, leaving small crescent marks in the skin. Still nothing except red. I can't think properly, can't see. I can't do anything except feel the anger, the repulsion, the betrayal that is flowing through my veins, pumping with every beat of my heart.

My teeth hurt from me clenching them together so hard, as I release the pressure on my molars. I close my eyes, trying to relieve myself of the anger that is racing throughout my body. But it's no use. I can't control myself, the urge to destroy, to damage, to hurt is over powering.

I lash out, ripping the painting down from the wall. It clatters to the ground, the thin materiel of canvas ripping through the middle, ironically in between my mother and father. Well, my mother and Vincent. I pick up the ruined photo, and hold it in the air, smashing it over their dresser. The wood snaps in half, the crack breaking through the noiseless barrier. I rampage around the room, ripping drawers from their slots, throwing them across the room. I pull at the curtains, yanking them from their place on the rod, flinging it to the ground. I don't make a sound though, my lips are sealed shut.

How could they. How could my mother, my own mother, cheat on dad? She deceived him, went behind his back. The little bitch. I gave my soul for you, when the whole time it was a lie. And Father, beating her. He couldn't. Wouldn't. But he did. Everything in Sebastians' journal is true.

Sebastian…

Sebastian, that conniving, repulsive, cheating, conceited, vulgar, lying piece of shit is my father. And not only that, he lied to my face. Every day, he kept the biggest secret he possibly could have, not to mention that I had the right to now. My body shakes with anger, seeing as everything I knew was a lie. How long did he know about me? Did he see me grow up, talk to my mother any other time than when he left? Nathaniel said that Sebastian didn't go to see Rachel after her left, but is that really true? Did Sebastian come visit, come to see me grow up, his child. His own flesh and blood, his kin, his  _family_  and he didn't even try to meet me.

The red is back, a dark rust blurring my sight. I open my mouth, and let out the biggest, loudest, angriest blood curdling scream I have ever made in my life. I scream with rage, from betrayal and disgust. I can't stand myself, to know that I am the product of something so repulsive and revolting. The son of a whore and a servant. I scream louder, kicking the walls, smashing through the wood. I punch the large mirror, enjoying the satisfying shatter of the glass. Pieces of it fall on to the dresser beneath it. My reflection is distorted, fragmented and broken. Without realizing it, I have started to cry. Tears stream down my face, as the screaming stops. I drop the shard of glass I had been clenching in my fist, watching as the blood pours from the wound. Painful, hard sobs wrack my body as I fall to my knees, clutching my injured hand to my chest. I cry out, wailing like an animal as I cry. The droplets splash on the floor. Everything is smudgy and blurred. I toss my head back, and cry out once more, letting the despair, disgust, agony, betrayal, and hatred wash over me. I collapse on to the floor, curling up in to a tight ball, rocking myself back and forth, letting the tears wash over my cheeks. I hate myself.

* * *

His touch was soft, caring, and tender. He washed away the dirt from my body, wiping the sponge over my slick skin. The warm bath water lapped around my ribcage, small ripples moving from drops of water falling from his hand. He washed me carefully, making sure I was clean. He wrung out the sponge, placing it in the basin beside him, and picked up the shampoo.

"Head back." He said quietly, while lifting my chin so it jutted out, hair falling back. The wet tendrils tickled my back, sliding across my dampened skin. He poured water over my head, careful not to get it in my eyes, then squirted some shampoo on to my hair, massaging my scalp with his fingers. He worked in through the dark tresses, making sure to cleanse it thoroughly. It felt so nice, him washing my hair. Relaxing. He scratched his fingernails in to my scalp, stimulating all the nerves. A small sigh escaped my lips accidently.

"This is quite relaxing, isn't it my little one?" He asked me, still scrubbing my head. I hummed a response, not wanting to speak. "Just enjoy it, small one." He spoke such soothing words, almost lovingly. Like a father…

* * *

I woke up from the nightmare, skin crawling, face coated in sweat. I had the sheet clenched in my fists, body stiff from terror. The moon shone through the small opening in my curtains, casting scary shadows. I cried out, scared that the monsters from my dream would attack.

It was Sebastian who came to my rescue, carrying a candle, shining much needed light in the dark room.

"What is it my child? Did you have a nightmare?" He questioned, walking over to me and kneeling down beside my bed. I nodded my head, not speaking. I was still scared, still in shock from the night terror. I had been back there, back in the cage, back on the altar, back where those people did bad things to me. I was trapped, not able to move. "Shall I make you some warm milk?" He asked, wiping away a tear that had escaped from fear. I nodded eagerly, wanting some hot milk with honey. "I will be right back little one, stay here." He said, and thankfully left the candle.

I was all by myself, watching the small flame flicker back and forth, wavering from my breath. I didn't focus on anything else, just the candle. So mesmerizing, changing its shape every moment. The yellow light all centered in to the one ball of heat. It reaches tall, yet stops short. As if trying to climb but not being able to make it to the final destination.

The door opening scares me. My eyes speed over to the intruding sound, only to relax when Sebastian walks through. He wheels the trolley over to my bed, and prepares my milk.

"Here you go, nice and hot for you, my lord." He says, handing me the cup.

* * *

It's snowing. The first snow I've seen all year. The thick snowflakes tumble from the sky, sticking together. The heavy snow lays firm on the ground, making it soft to step on.

Sebastian is beside me, holding his palm out.

"I've never seen snow like this. So white and pure…" He stares at the snowflake that rests in his palm, before it quickly melts. "It has six sides!" He exclaims, seemingly surprised. He looks down towards me, abandoning his fascination with the snow. "Do you want to build something?" He asks me, eyes glowing with excitement. I nod, trying to hold in the urge to jump around. He stands back up right, and grabs my hand. "Come on then!" He urges, pulling me along to a flat meadow that is covered in thick snow.

We spend the afternoon having fun, he as much as I. We make snow people of all sorts, build a fantastic snow fort, more like castle. He would climb to the very top on feather light feet, and shape the top of the towers. We made snow angels in the snow. I drank hot chocolate from a thermos, Sebastian was prepared as usual. I suggested a snowball fight… but one throw from him would have me unconscious. He said no.

We had fun. That's all it was. I didn't worry about how I had just signed a contract with a demon a month previous. I didn't worry about what was going to happen to the company, or the staff, or my life. I didn't worry, because at that time, I didn't care. It was time for me to have a little fun, be a kid for just right now. It wouldn't matter later on. I wanted to relax and be my age. Be myself.

* * *

I wake with a jolt, the cold hard floor hurting my side. I was dreaming. But they weren't dreams, they were memories. Of when I first signed his contract. Before I trusted him. Before he betrayed me. He always seemed fatherly, even now. My tears have long since dried, the salty water sticky on my cheeks. My head hurts. My heart hurts. Never before have I ever felt this kind of betrayal, this kind of hurt. It hurts so much.

The door creaks open, so I turn my head, my neck stiff. Sebastian has poked his head in to the room, probably from not seeing me in a while. He looks surprised that I am on the floor. He can probably see my blood shot, puffy eyes. Can see the dried tears that stain my cheeks. Can see the despair in my eyes as he comes closer, the hatred and agony they hold. He is on his knees beside me quick, brushing my hair away from my forehead.

"My master, what is wrong, what…" He stops talking when he sees my face. It is screwed up in pain. His touch, once comforting, now sizzles with fire, the fire that courses through my veins with hate. Hate and anger. He doesn't remove his hand from my face. "What is wrong my lord? Are you in pain?" He asks me, looking in to my eyes. I don't meet his gaze.

I mumble something in to the silence, barely audible.  
"What was that? I didn't hear." He says, getting closer to my lips. I mumble a little louder, but it's all mixed up, tangled upon my lips. "One more time please, lord." He murmurs to me.

" _ **Get the fuck away from me!"**_  I shout in his ear. He draws back instantly, my yelling shocking his ear drum. I slap his hand away from my cheeks, wiping away the presence and feeling of his touch. It's still there, the extreme burning sensation that he leaves on my skin.  _ **"Don't touch me!"**_  I scream when he reaches out to me. His hand drops to his side, but his eyes never leave mine. I stare at him, all the pent up hatred and rage, the agony and despair, the betrayal and misery. It boars in to him from my eyes. If only looks could kill.

"What is wrong? My lord please talk to me." He exclaims, desperation in his voice. He seems lost, unable to deal with what I'm dishing out. He doesn't know what to do with me. He is on unknown territory now.

"What's  _wrong?_  You ask me what's  _wrong,_  you bastard." I say my voice low. It's filled with a sweet, sickening tone, verging on angry, but not quite. "Why don't you tell me,  _dad_." I say, throwing the accusation in his face.

The reaction is immediate. His eyes widen with pure shock. His lips part slightly, and then tighten. He drops his gaze, looking at the floor. Unable to look my in the eye. "Didn't think I would find out. I'm not stupid." I say, spitting out the words. He looks up at me, eyes filled with sorrow and hope. "Don't look at me, you vile creature. You don't  **deserve**  the title of the Phantomhive Butler." I shout. Tears are starting to well up in my eyes from the anger and sadness. " _You lied_. You lied every single day. To my face! You swore. You swore you wouldn't…" And then the tears start coming. Spilling down my faces, retracing the tracks that had dried before. I can tell they bother him, just like they always did. He gets all tense. I know he wants to comfort me, but he won't. Not right now.

He reaches out to me once again. I was wrong. He brushes my arm with the tips of his fingers before I register what's going on. I flinch away, the agonizing burning now on my arm as well. My hand is in the air as quick as lightning, coming down across his face. His head turns away from the force of it, the rings on my hands are sure to leave bruises. The red has already started to show up. My breathing is heavy, labored, almost like I'm about to have an attack. But I won't, not now. I can't.

"Don't you  _ **ever touch me again**_ , you filthy son of a bitch. You disgust me.  _ **Leave. Now.**_ " I spit on his shoes, turning away from him. I can feel his eyes on my back, but I don't turn around.

"Yes my lord." He whispers quietly, and exits the room without another word.


	11. 11

Sebastian's POV:

* * *

You should have seen him, the anger and hurt in his eyes. His hostility towards me was astonishing. My chest aches, the pain ripping through me like claws, shredding through my heart. It hurts so much. Why did he have to find out? Ciel... My little angel Ciel... You had to get nosy didn't you. You had to make sure I felt so badly for falling in love with Rachel.

She was so beautiful. Every waking moment my thoughts were about her. It wasn't just silly love, the kind of love that fades away. It was a love that burned within, coursing through your entire being. A love that grows with every hardship and argument. A love that makes you do stupid stuff, that makes you see everything in a different way. A way that made it incredible, just like her. The kind of love that's makes you vulnerable.

When she told me I had to leave, there was nothing in this world that could have hurt me more. Nothing in the deepest pits of Hell could have torn through me like she did. She had gotten under my skin so quickly, she had captured my heart then broke it. I didn't do anything for a long time. I starved myself, sulked in bed, never went out. I didn't see any creature, living or dead for a long while. Depression set in, yet it was so much worse than anything I've felt in my entire life. The pain was indescribable.

It was about a decade after that I returned to my normal life, having seemingly gotten over her. I forgave her, but never forgot. Her touch still lived inside me, her love. It was still there, hidden and locked away in the deepest corner of me, because if I let it out, let it free, it would start hurting again.

I was out in the human world, with Nathaniel. He convinced me to find a meal. I hadn't eaten in a long time, just barely surviving on the souls he forced down my throat earlier. I needed a proper meal, and he was going to make me find one even if it cost him his life. We could smell the soul miles before we saw it. There had been black magic and satanic works going on for a few hours when we picked up on it. We raced towards it, luckily in the area of somebody hoping to summon a demon.

We hid, unseen by the humans, most of them dressed in dark grey robes, hoods pulled up. There were smaller humans in cages, either dead or no life left. They've given up fighting, the dull murky look in their eyes told us that. There was one though, lying on an alter, who held spirit. His soul was tainted by the pain and torture that must have happened here, and yet it was still brilliantly innocent. It shone through him, the smell invigorating. I know Nate wanted him, and badly. But this trip was for me, and he knew that. He wouldn't take what was mine. The small human, that child would be  _mine_.

The room went dark as the men finished off their summoning. I appeared, but not to them. I strode over to the boy who had lost all hope, who was desperate and in despair, who was staring at me with the biggest blue eyes I've ever seen. Eyes that held pain and innocence and power. The men begged me to choose them, wishing for money and sex and fame. Petty insects.

"You have summoned me here. That can never be changed, and nothing sacrificed will be regained. Now choose." I tell him, my demonic form hidden from his eyes. It is dark around us, feathers falling. The red robe that is covering his body falls around his frail hips.

"This is an order. Kill them!"

"Yes my lord."

* * *

I'm not sure what part of the property I'm on, but I know it's quiet. I've never been here before. The sun has set a long time ago, I was indifferent about the whole thing. I was sulking. I still am. It's cold. Not out here, I don't get cold from the weather. This chill radiates from within myself, cooling my blood from the inside, straight to the bone. I huddle, curled up in a ball, his words replaying in my head.

"You don't deserve the title of a Phantomhive Butler!"

"Don't touch me!"

"You disgust me!"

"You lied."

"Leave. Now."

So much hurt in his voice, so much pain. It hurt me just hearing those things come from him. My son hates me. I deserve it. I did lie to him. And yet I didn't expect him to find out, to ever react this way. I didn't think... I remember the tears making their way down his face, and the aching in my chest gets worse. He should never cry. He doesn't deserve to cry. After been through so much. Why did I have to fuck up so badly?

I don't have the time, but I'm assuming it's well after supper. Hopefully the servants made my son diner while I had my break down. I doubt he ate anything though. When he's upset he won't eat. Like father like son I suppose. I get up off the ground, making my way from wherever I hid. I need to see him, need to check on him.

The contract was real. The most real thing I ever made. I didn't know it was him at the time... If I had, signing the deal was the last thing I would have done. I made a deal to eat my own son's soul. How sick is that? I should have realized as soon as I saw his eyes. Just like his mothers. So brilliant and electric blue. Same hair as me, lighter but just as dark. Thin body like his mother as well, sickeningly thin after being starved by those monsters I killed. Killed by his instructions.

The house is in view. Most of the lights are off, except for one. A bedroom light is on near the top, on the left. The only light on in the section of the house. It seems to be... Rachel and Vincent's room... Why would the light still be on? Ciel... Ciel was the last one in there.

My heart is racing, suddenly worried. I haven't seen or heard from him in hours. I left him in such a distraught state, he was so angry and sad. I need to get back in the house. Now.

I speed towards the doors, throwing them open and rushing in. I'm about to take the first step of the stairs when I'm interrupted.

"Sebastian!" Bard shouts at me from down the hall. "Sebastian come here NOW!" Maybe Ciel is there, with him. I run towards his voice, where he's leaving the kitchen. "Sebastian, I need your help." I'm so worried about Ciel.

"What, what is it? Is it Ciel? What's wrong?" I rush out, the worry and nervousness seeping in to my voice. Palms are sweating, which is rare for me, heart racing, pounding in my ear.

"Just come to the kitchen." He's dragging me towards the kitchen, and surprisingly I let him pull me in through the door. The lights are off in the kitchen. I smell something sweet, and smoke...

"SURPRISE!" The lights flick on, Meyrin and Finny jump out from behind the counter, screaming and waving their arms in the air. They have pointy party hats on their heads, a cake on the counter. It has one single wax candle sticking out from the center, leaning slightly to the right. The cake itself is a little lopsided, icing running down the sides and a sickly green color. I immediately cringe at the gaudy sight.

"We are welcoming you back. We didn't have a proper party set up for you when you arrived, so this is our improvisation. We even have a present for you!" Finny tells me, slamming the poorly wrapped box on the table beside the cake. The table shudders from the sudden shock.

"Come on now, come eat a piece!" Meyrin urges me, grabbing my hand when I try to leave. I need to look for Ciel, but they don't know he's here. I can't tell them, since they think he's dead. Everyone does. The 'person' I came with, to their knowledge, is female, a new mistress for me. I pull my hand from hers, wiping it on my pant leg.

"Erm, thank you, but I really should be working, my mistress has things-"

"Nonsense, she's fine. We checked on her a while ago, she was asleep in Ciel;s old bed." Oh, ok good. That's a relief, he's asleep. They clearly didn't check under the covers. He's alright. He must have just left the lights on. I relax knowing he's safe.

"Alright, I suppose. Um, let's cut this cake." It looks disgusting, but I'm not about to tell them that. They look so proud of it. We eat, slicing up the cake. It's just as gross as I assumed, too salty and overcooked. The icing is decent I guess. Overall it was alright I guess. It was sort of nice to see these guys again. It's been a long time.

They've gotten older, wrinkles at the edges of their eyes, sagged shoulders, but still a bright spirit. Still annoying, but I realize I missed the constant noise and hectic craziness they bring with them. Finny pushes the present towards me, and I tear through the paper, and open the box. It's a picture of all of us, of Meyrin and Bard and Finny, Ciel and me. Pluto is even in the background. It's a bittersweet moment.

"We know that it's been a while, but its a picture of the good times. When everyone we loved was here, together. As a family." Bard gets teary-eyed, and Finny is straight out crying. He always emotional.

"Thank you guys, this was nice. I'm gonna go check on my mistress. Goodnight." I dismiss myself, taking the picture with me. I walk up the stairs, melancholy present. It's rare that I get sad, but I miss this.

I open the door, to Ciel's room. I see the lump in the covers. I stare at it for a minute. It's not moving. Not even breathing. I move closer, pulling the covers back. It's just pillows. He's not here...


	12. 12

Ciel's POV

* * *

Time seems to have stopped. Seconds, minutes, hours, I don't know how long I've been here. Just laying here. I have yet to move from this spot. Sebastian left. God knows where he is. I should be hungry, it must be after supper, but I don't feel anything. Maybe that's a good thing. Better to feel nothing at all than the pain. The floor should be hard on my body, but it's not. There is no fire in their room, so I should feel cold, but I don't. I don't feel it. I don't even feel hurt anymore, not really. Numb. I feel numb. Numb to any and every thing. Numb and indifferent.

Even though I am numb, I am still angry. I can feel the fury in me, heating my body and blood. But I can do nothing about it. I am spent. Tired and angry and confused and sad. I'm just done with everything.

* * *

I think I walked back to my own room. I'm not sure. I don't remember the walk down the halls, or opening the door, or pulling the covers back. I'm just in bed. I was there, and now I'm here. Still time seems nonexistent. I have yet to eat or sleep. Maybe sleep will help. I stare at the wall, willing myself to feel drowsy, to get away from this numbness, this dull pain that comes from within. The wall shrinks and starts to turn dark. But it's just my eyes closing. My eyes burn underneath my eyelids. When was the last time I even blinked? I can't remember. I only remembering staring at the walls and the floors and the wreck I left in their room. I don't know what to call them; Parents? Mom and Dad? But they're not, not really my mom and dad. So what are they? They are people. People I don't know anymore.

* * *

I sit up. Where am I? Everything looks familiar. It's dark. There is muted light, but I can't see where it's coming from. I squint, my eyes adjusting. I can make out shapes in the dark. A bed, a bookcase, chairs around a table. Am I in someone's room? No... Everything is slightly blurry. I think I am hiding behind a curtain, looking in to a room. The door opens, and two people walk in. My mother, in all black, and then someone I do not know. He is short, but strongly built. He has broad shoulders, and the blackest hair I have ever seen, the hair tucked behind his ears, gelled back. He is wearing a suit, and holding a briefcase.

"Mr. Johnson, have you brought the will?" Rachel asks, as they take a seat at the table. The Mr. Johnson places his briefcase on the table in front of him, and opens it. The clicking of the locks is the only sound in the room. He pulls out a single piece of paper.

"Yes, it is all here. Shall I read it for you?" He asks, sliding glasses on to his nose. She nods, leaning back in her chair.

**I, Countess Rachel Dalles-Phantomhive, in sound body and mind, write my Last and Final Will.**

**Any and all property belonging to me shall be given to my husband, or is he predeceases me, shall be given to my son.**

**All money belonging to me shall be given to my husband, or if he predeceases me, shall be given to my son.**

**My son shall receive a letter addresses to him. He is advised to read it alone, when he is older, for the contents are distressing and I do not wish that on to him. It can be found in my study, at the town house, underneath my portrait.**

**My signet shall be given to my son.**

**My executor is to distribute all belongings of mine that are not aforementioned in this will to family, immediate or otherwise.**

**Should my husband predecease me, the Funtom Company will be given to my son, in which he will become head of business.**

**My executor shall choose an owner for my dog Sebastian, should my husband and/or son predeceases I, and will be given a sum of $5000.00 for the expenses of his lifetime. Any money left over of that sum is to be given to the owner in thanks.**

**This will has been signed in presence of two witnesses, Tanaka, my butler, and Angelina Burnett, my sister.**

**_Rachel Phantomhive_**  December 5th 1885

**Witnesses Signatures**

**_Tanaka_**   ** _Angelina Dalles Burnett_**

"Is this what you want? We need to be sure. I know you only signed this yesterday, but I need to give it to my boss soon. If your suspicions are true, we don't have much time." Rachel nods. Is that what her will said? If so, then the letter to me is still at the town house. I wasn't read the will, Tanaka dealt with it. I was still missing. This letter might explain things.

"There was one other thing I didn't put in my will, but I have to tell someone. You are my executor, so I can trust you not to tell anyone, am I correct?" My mom asks Mr. Johnson.

"Yes Countess." He replies. Everything starts fading, just as my mom's mouth opens to speak. I can't hear anything, as everything goes black.

* * *

My eyes shoot open, revealing my bedroom once again. It was a dream. No, it couldn't be a dream. A memory, pushed down in my subconscious. Apparently it's important. That letter. I need to find it. It might tell me about Sebastian and her. I pull the covers off my body, and dress hurriedly. I layer up sweaters and socks, as well as another pair of pants. It's cold outside, and I won't have a carriage to protect me. I don't know when Sebastian will be back, so I stuff some pillows under the covers. It might deceive the servants, but I know it won't fool Sebastian. But I'll be long gone by then. I creep downstairs, and peek around the corner in to the kitchen. Bard and Meyrin are making a cake. Good. They're busy. Finny is washing the dishes. I tiptoe away, and slip on my winter boots and jacket. I leave the back door, slipping past the kitchen unseen, and run to the stables. The horses are there, resting. I tack them up, just as Aunt Frances taught me, and jump on to her. I kick her in the sides, and ride away, off the property, towards the town house.


	13. 13

Ciel's POV

The cold wind whips at my face, burning my skin. It started snowing heavily about 20 minutes ago, and already I'm chilled to the bone. I layered up, but it's done nothing to help. I squint through the falling snow, trying to see the road, but it's useless. The road has been buried under the thick snow. It's dangerous to be out at this time, but I can't just go back now. It would be a waste. I need to know what is in that letter. My mother gave it to me, and I should have read it by now. All this time I knew nothing about it. And now, I have a slim chance that I can find out what truly happened between my mother and Sebastian.

I shiver under my jacket, my teeth chattering. I have lost almost all feeling in my fingers by now, my hands loosely holding on to the reigns. Jasmine, my horse, is fighting the wind, as brave as ever. But I know this is hard on her too. She has slowed down to a walk, hesitant on the slippery road. Her eyes and nose are covered in snow and ice. I fall forward, not able to sit up any longer. I wrap my arms around her neck, head turned away from the wind. It seems like this snowstorm will never end.

It takes two hours to reach the town house, but that's on a good day. When the weather is nice, and the roads are clear. At this rate, we won't make it to town by morning. The cold has infiltrated my entire body, driving out any and all heat. My face has become coated in a thin layer of ice, my eyes sealed shut. I don't want to know what it looks like out there. I can practically see warmth behind my eyelids; I can imagine the sun hot against my cheeks. My lips are cracked and bleeding, so dried out from the cold. I don't know where we are anymore. I am praying that Jasmine has been going in the right direction. She knows how to get to town.

I crack my eyelids open, to get an idea of where we are. All I see are trees. Trees are all around us. No road, no houses, no people, just trees. I lift my head a little, and look around. Trees, tall trees towering above us, that's all there, is as far as the eye can see. We're lost. Jasmine got us lost. She didn't know where she was going. I look up at her head, and see it's hanging low. Her eyes are barely open, and they're crusted with ice. I pat her neck. She continues to walk in the storm. Thankfully the trees provide some cover from the wind. We need to go somewhere that's out of the cold. Somewhere warm and with food. My stomach growls hard. I haven't eaten anything since lunch. I'm so tired, so tired of being cold.

* * *

I hear the footsteps before I see their owner. The crunch of the snow under the feet is just meters away. I open my eyes, hoping it's a lumberjack out in the woods who can help us. But then I hear the growl. Jasmine's ears prick up a little bit, turning towards the noise, as she looks for the maker of the sound, but it's too late. The wolf is on us, jumping through midair, appearing from behind the bushes, and has sunken his teeth in to her flesh before we can react. She takes off, me hanging on for dear life, trying to shake him off. Jasmine kicks and flails, weaving around the trees, narrowly missing some of them. Panic begins to set in as the fact that a wolf may kill my only chance of survival hits me. I grip her mane as tightly as I can, but it's no use. My fingers aren't working properly because they're cold. So I am thrown off her back. I fly through the air, and land harshly on the ground, all air leaving my lungs. The impact knocked the wind out of me, as I struggle to breath. I can just see the wolfs teeth tear through Jasmines throat. She stops running, and falls to the ground, close to death. The dog rips through her flesh, while she hangs on for her life. But she has no fight left in her, no strength, and finally succumbs to death. Her head falls to the ground as the mutt eats away at her corpse, taking what he pleases. I feel sick to my stomach, and start retching, but nothing comes up but a thick acidic yellowish substance that burns my throat.

When I'm finished, I fall back in to the snow, exhausted. I close my eyes. So this is how I die. Not from old age, not from some black market drug dealer, not at Sebastian's hand, but from hypothermia. I sigh, accepting that no one is coming for me. I fall asleep to the sounds of the wolf mangling and shredding what left of my horse.

* * *

It stopped snowing I think. But the night is still young, and the temperature will only continue to drop. My clothes have started to freeze to the ground, making me unable to move. Sebastian won't come to my rescue; he doesn't hear me when I call anymore. The contract was severed, and with it our connection. Although the physical aspects remained, the pentagram still on his hand and my right eye, he doesn't know when I'm in danger or not. Which really sucks right about now.

I don't know if the wolf left or not. I can't hear him eating, but he could be resting. He could be staying warm, unlike me. Maybe, just maybe, somebody will find me. Or at the very least, my body. I'd like to be buried, not left on the ground to decompose somewhere in the forest. The cold has made a home in my body, so much so that I am finding it hard to breathe. My fingers have turned a sickening blue color. They're stiff, just like little rocks attached to my hands. Not good for anything. I can't move them, or my toes. I've never felt cold like this before.

* * *

I think I must have fallen asleep. I must have, because I'm awoken by a very wet and cold nose prodding at my face. I open my eyes, wrenching them apart because the lashes had frozen together. A dog's face is staring at me from very close. Drool hangs from his mouth, and drips on to my cheek. He looks up towards my feet, and barks rapidly. He has a collar on. Thank the lord, it's not some mutt that's going to eat me. He keeps on barking, then runs away. I hear a voice in the distance, muffled by the snow and trees. I try to speak, to make a noise. My throat is dry, but I manage to get out a small "Hello?" Footsteps approach me, slowly at first, but then faster. The crunch of the snow is loud in the night. A soft glow of the lantern illuminates my body and the ground around me.

"Hello? Anyone? Please help." I shout hoarsely. I am so tired, I try to look up, to see if there is someone coming but I can't. I don't have the energy or the strength anymore. The light gets brighter, and I can see a man holding the lantern and a shotgun. He drops the light down to his side, and stares at me.

"What in the devils name are you doing out here at this time of night young man?!" He shouts, and leans down close to my face. He sees me, actually sees me. Suddenly he's scooping me up in his arms, the dog barking like mad and running around the man in circles. I'm too tired to protest about him taking me away. I'm so tired and cold. So cold…  
"Don't you worry boy, it's alright now." He whispers to me. I fall asleep in his arms, hoping that he has somewhere warm to go. Hoping he's not going to take me away like those men did after the fire.

* * *

When I wake, it's not in the freezing cold like all the other times. It's not windy or cold or damp, it's warm. There's real actual heat. I am not cold, I am warm; something I thought I would never be again. I'm warm, so warm that I'm sweating. I wipe the sweat off my forehead. That's another thing; my fingers work. They move and work and they're warm. So are my toes! My toes are warm. It's like heaven here.

I open my eyes, and see fire. First reaction is panic, I jump up and sprint across the room, looking for an exit. I whip my head around, searching for some way to escape the flames like I did all those years ago. But as I'm looking around, I don't see any other fire, don't see anything else burning. I close my eyes, and take a breath, breathing in clean air, not smoke. I'm just overreacting, there's nothing wrong. I open my eyes, and see the orange and yellow flames, contained in a fireplace. My initial reaction to all fire I suppose is to run. I go over and sit down on the sofa; it's old and well worn. It's comfy though, so I sit and relax, watching the clock that hangs above the fireplace. I don't see the time, just watch the hands tick around the circle. Minutes pass, before I hear a door open, and footsteps approach. I turn my head, and see a man in a red jacket and boots, a dog jogging along beside him. He looks friendly, a kind face, wrinkly but kind. He has a thick beard too, and large ears. The dog runs over towards me, and jumps up on the couch, lying beside me. The old man takes off his boots, and walks in to the kitchen.

"D'you want some tea?" He shouts at me from the other room. I look at him in the kitchen, his eyes focused on me, waiting.

"Um, sure. Thank you sir." I say, and he laughs.

"Don't go calling me 'sir'. Call me Charlie or Charles or just about anything else you want." He smiles at me, then puts the water on to boil. So his names Charlie… The dog beside me shifts, and places his head in my lap. That's what Sebastian used to do before he died, put his head in my lap, and I would stroke his ears. This dog is old, his face tired and droopy, but his eyes are bright like a puppies. The old man brings over the tea, and sits down with us, the dog and me, and hands me my mug.

"Thank you very much sir, oh, sorry.  _Charlie_." I say, and take the cup from his hands. I drink in the tea, the heat of it wonderful. It's plain, regular tea, but it's some of the best I've had in a while. I hum in appreciation.

"What's yer name boy?" He asks me, resting his hand on the dog.

"Ciel." I say, watching him pat the old lab. "It's Ciel."

"Alright, _Ciel,_ what's yer story?"


	14. 14

I'm slightly surprised by his question.

"Excuse me, my what?" I look at the old man, staring at him incredulously. He doesn't seem shocked by my response.

"Your story lad. Why you were in the woods this time o' night." He leans back in his seat, stroking the old dog. "Why  _were_  you in the woods? All 'lone too."

What business is it of his anyway? Why should I tell him? It doesn't concern him at all in the slightest. I don't say anything, just turn my gaze back to the fire. He chuckles quietly to himself. I scoff, too low for him to hear.

"Don't ask ridiculous questions. It's none of your concern. I was just out looking around." I announce, louder than normal. I glance over to Charlie, and see him smirking. For some reason it bothers me. Why is he smiling? " _What?!_ " I snarl, anger seeping out of me. My muscles tense, and I clench my hands in to fists, trying to calm down and control my temper. "Sorry Charles. I apologize for shouting." I straighten up, sitting taller than before.

"Seems I hit a nerve. Well never mind then. It's late, I've made up a bed for yee, it's just down the hall." He gets up from the couch, taking his mug with him. He doesn't say a word, instead walks to the kitchen, placing his cup in the basin. "G'night" He grunts out, stomping quietly up the stairs, and closes the door in a hurry. That was unexpected.

* * *

I stay sitting for some time. I don't know how long has gone by. The fire started to go out a while ago, and now only a few coals burn softly, crackling in to the silence. Charles has not emerged from his room. I suppose I should go to bed, it's quite late. I slowly rise from my seat, gripping the armrest for support. My vision goes black and blurry for a few seconds, and this wave of intense pressure comes on full force in my head. I sway, but catch my balance.  _Whoa_. What was that? I shake it off, and head to my room.

It's cozy; Small, but quaint. Certainly not what I'm used to, but it will have to do. The bed has a worn handmade patchwork quilt on it, its wrought iron rails rusty. The floor is hardwood, and is covered in a braided rug that reaches to every corner of the room. There are several photos on the the walls, of a family, a large oak tree, of a cat. I wonder if that's Charles' family. There is an antique bookshelf crammed full of well used books. I sit down on the bed, the squeak of the springs surprising me. I don't think I've ever had a bed that squeaked, or made noises for that matter. I see a set of pajamas have been set out for me, a soft blue flannel button up shirt and pants. I undress and put them on, the cozy material soothing on my skin. I climb under the sheets, reveling in the heat and comfort it provides. The pillows aren't very fluffy, but I have nothing better. As unfortunate this situation, I am grateful to be out of the cold, in his warm home, no matter how small it is. He has no reason to do this and yet he still took me in. I am truly lucky he found me out there, who knows what would have happened. Sebastian wouldn't have known. He would have looked, surely, but I have no way of knowing whether he would have found me, or my corpse. He must be out looking right now. Frantic and worried, running around. But… But maybe he isn't. I said so many things to him, cruel and harsh things. He probably doesn't want to look for me. He's probably at home, enjoying his time off, relaxing and drinking tea, or sleeping, or God knows what else. I am almost sure he isn't looking though, now that I think about it. Why would he? Why would he look for a miserable ungrateful child like me, after I told him all those terrible things.

" _You disgust me." "Don't touch me." "You don't deserve the title of a Phantomhive butler" "You lied." "Leave. Now."_  I practically said I hated him. I did. At that moment I did. I hated him so much; with every fiber of my body I hated him. He deserved to be hated, after what he did. He doesn't just get to lie to me for my whole life, and expect to be treated the same when I find out. Although I need him, to care for me and keep me company, and even though he is the biggest constant in my life, I don't know if I will be able to get over this. Something this big, something this radical. People don't just move on. He's my dad…

* * *

When I open my eyes, I don't see my bedroom, I'm not in my king sized bed, Sebastian isn't by the window, drawing the curtains to let the sunlight in. I sit up, remembering the tiny cottage I have taken in to. My eyesight goes dark, as I become light headed, feeling faint. I close my eyes, breathing heavily, hoping whatever this is will pass quickly. I slide out of the bed, surprised when my muscles pull and tighten. I'm not used to being this sore. I stand up and stretch, groaning from the pain. I look around on the ground for my slippers, only to realize that they're not there. Hmm… No slippers. I reach to the side to grab my robe from its place on the wall, except it's not there. No robe either. I'm not home; I don't have all my stuff here. But still… Shouldn't there at least be slippers and a robe in his home? A little miffed, I leave the room in only my pajamas, the floor cool on my bare feet, my skin just a fraction colder than I'm used to. Neither of these things is upsetting, but they leave me slightly peeved. I go down the stairs, and see Charlie in the kitchen, cooking. I smell the meat before I see it. It infiltrates my nose and sends my senses flying. The aroma has my mouth watering in seconds. I come up behind him quietly, overcome by the smell of the frying meat. The dog trots over to me, growling, but happily, excitedly, licking my fingers with his tongue. Charles turns around, and smiles.

"Mornin' Ciel." He stirs what's in the pan, and adds some spices. "Food'll be done in a jiffy. Go on, sit down." I make my way to the table, and take a seat, watching him put the cooked meat on to two plates, and carry them over to the table, the dog trailing behind him. I'm ravenous and the food smells so good, I have to dig in as soon as the plate is placed in front of me. My tongue is assaulted by flavors and textures beyond my comprehension. Salty, tangy, with tomatoes and spices. I chew the tender meat, the juicy, delicious meat, moaning quietly. I didn't know I was quite _this_  hungry.

"This is heavenly. Thank you." I stuff my mouth full after speaking. "What type of meat is this?"

"I don't get to make it very often, it's a special recipe." He says. "It's your horse."

* * *

A/N: You guys can decide if you want Charlie to be this sweet old man who is alone and is super duper friendly and is the best person alive, or if hes this old man who is alone and seems really kind but is kind of sick and twisted on the inside. Comment your opinion on which personality you think ol Charles should have. :) happy reading

 


	15. 15

" _It's your horse"._

My mouth goes dry, the lump of chewed meat in my mouth turning sour. I blink.

"Excuse me?" I breathe out quickly. "My what?" Charles looks at me with a cat-like-grin on his face, his yellow aged teeth staring at me. The food pressing against the inside of my cheek feels like a dead weight in my mouth, as what he says sinks in. I don't dare swallow.

"I'm just messing with ye kid. Ya think I'm some sick ol' man?" He chuckles. "It's venison, had it in me ice box." He picks up his fork and takes a bit of the meal. Chewing loudly and with his mouth open, he smiles wide at me. "Get on, dig in." He encourages.

Relief flows through me, as I swallow hard. I poke at the dish, and take another hesitant bite. It tastes sort of like venison, but I've only had it a few times, so I can't be sure. Except it tastes so good. I chew, the flavor wrapping around my tongue. Within a few minutes my plate is empty. A burp makes its way from deep inside my stomach, and before I know it

"BURRRRPPP". My face turns bright red, as I cough in embarrassment. "Excuse me, I'm sorry, that was rude." I hear an odd wheezing sound, and when I look up, Charlie is bent over, clutching his stomach, laughing so hard that no noise is coming out. He gasps for air, starting to cough, as tears form in his eyes.

"Oh ma boy, it was a beauty." He manages to choke out, and starts clapping. What in the world is wrong with this man?

* * *

"I gots to go out for a somethin'." He says, pulling my eyes up from the book I'm reading. He's putting his jacket on, boots on his feet, dog by his side. Lastly he grabs his rifle from off the hook, and places his hunting hat on his head. "Won't be long. You stay put." He says gruffly, and forces the stiff door open against the pounding snow and wind. The door slams shut, and then I'm alone. My eyes wander to the small window on the kitchen above the sink. A storm has blown over, snowing beyond belief, and the wind is powerful, making the house creak. I hadn't even realized. I turn back to my book, settling down in front of the fire, the warmest place in the house. But the silence is too loud, I can hear every noise, can hear the silence ringing in my ears.

It was never this quiet at the manor. Even in my study alone the cries and screeches made by those servants were definitely not quiet. And Sebastian would always drop in, bringing me food or tea or new papers to read. I was never alone. Not until now.

It's his fault that it's quiet. That bastard. He went and fucked everything up, and now it's quiet. He just screws it all up, and now the quiet bothers me.  _Why_ does it annoy me so much! I let out an angry growl, shoving my balled up fist in to the cushions underneath me. My body tenses, teeth gritted and shoulders tight. I roughly change my position, jerking my body to the side. God dammnit, he's so aggravating. Why does he make me so mad? I shouldn't care. I hate him. I shouldn't even be upset. Wasting my time over someone so useless and pathetic. A mother fucking demon, quite literally. I laugh darkly. My fingers curl against the book in my hand. I kick my feet out, lying down on the small couch, angrily sighing. I toss the book on top of my chest, under my chin. Screw him. Screw him and Rachel, screw Vincent and everyone else too. Fuck them. I hate them. I hate them…

* * *

I suppose I started crying. My shirt is damp. I don't feel the tears on my face or in my eyes, but I know they are there. God damn weak piece of shit. Crying over them. Crying, like the child you are. I hiccup, defeated by my own thoughts, by this hell of a reality, by the silence. I close my eyes. I hate them for doing this to me. I hate them…

I wake up shivering, cold and damp. I curled up in to a ball while I slept, trying to keep some of the heat. The fire is out, and Charlie isn't back yet. The cold cuts through me, the sharpness making my arms sting. Harsh wind blows through the little house and bites at my skin. The window blew open in the storm, letting the snow and cold come pouring in to the cottage. I quickly get up to close the shutters. But I slept through the worst of it; a pile of snow has built up and melted, making the room damp and keeping the chill in. I have no idea how to keep a fire burning, much less build one from scratch. I don't know when Charlie is coming back, so for now I'm stuck in this dank, dim cold place. It's like a cave really. I run up the stairs to the room I slept in, and the whole world goes dark to the point where I can't see anything. I drop to my knees at the top, breathing harshly, my head weighing heavily on my shoulders. I sort of flop down on to the top step, sitting heavily, slumping against the hard wood, trying to gain my vision back. Whatever this is needs to stop. Shaking my head, I wearily get up off the floor, only stumbling slightly. I reach my room, and grab all the blankets there are in the cupboard. There aren't a lot. Just a linen set, thin and worn, and another patchwork quilt. I carry them down the stairs, and wrap myself up in them, and sit down on the couch, knees tucked up to my chest. I cough, the cold getting to me. Thankfully the blankets help a bit. Hopefully Charlie gets back soon.

 


	16. 16

It’s still cold. I shiver in to the blankets, trying to retain some warmth. My eyes are closed, blocking out the world. Charlie isn’t back yet. It’s been hours. Where is he? When is he coming back? My toes and fingers have gone numb, my body trying to keep my core warm. It’s just as cold outside as it is in here. Thank goodness there is no wind. The dampness in the air causes my chills to wrack my whole being.

The coughing started a little while back.  It’s become more insistent as time passes, and with my lungs being in crappy shape as it is, every cough gets worse and worse. Sometimes phlegm comes up. Sometimes not.

Is Sebastian were here he’d have the fire crackling hours ago, my feet incased in warm slippers, the damp air diminished quickly. But here I am, alone, a hacking shivering mess with no idea of when I’ll be warm again. Charlie, where ever you are, please come back.

I hear little tiny claws on the wood floor. Running across the kitchen, scurrying somewhere quick. I sit up from my cacoon of blankets, and see a tiny mouse with a cracker in his paws, munching happily, the cold not bothering him in the slightest. His pale grey fur stands out against the tan wood. I sit back down, unimpressed and a little disgusted. I hear the nails scratching again, and the mouse comes in to view from where I lie, running under the coffee table. His tony mouth is stuffed full of what looks to be bread crumbs. There must be a piece on the floor that had fallen down a while back. My stomach growls. It’s been hours since I’ve eaten. The mouse shouldn’t be the only one allowed to curb his hunger. I get up, wrapping the caccoon of blankets tightly around my shivering body, and shuffle over to the kitchen, the floor damp from where the snow came in. My blankets drag in a small puddle as I waddle over to the loaf of bread sitting on the table. I blink blearily, my head heavy from sleep. A yawn escapes from between my lips as I lazily rip a chunk of bread from the loaf. I chew slowly, not really tasting it.

I’m halfway through the piece when the door is thrown open, and in walks Charlie. Holding his gun and hat, shaking the snow from his jacket.

“Hoowee sure is cold in ‘ere.” He says, slipping off his boots. “Ain’t a picnic out there either.” He walks over to me, and clasps my shoulder. “What’s wrong boy?” I look over to the empty fireplace. He follows my gaze, and his eyebrows shoot up. “Goodness me, no fire!”

I’m sitting on the couch in front of the now blazing fire, warmed throughout my body. The blankets were put back on the bed, the puddles mopped up, and soup placed on the stove. Charlie is in the kitchen, setting the table.

“Damn rats.” He shouts, slamming his fist on the table. I turn and see he’s holding a loaf of bread in his hands. “Eating all me bread.” He turns the loaf over in his hands. “Great, gone moldy too.” He grumbles, angrily throwing the bread in the garbage. Wasn’t that the bread I ate?... My stomach turns, and I run towards the bathroom and throw up in the toilet. I ate bread the rats ate too, not to mention it had mold. How did I not notice?! I throw up again thinking of the mouse with its mouth full of crumbs.

* * *

 

“It’s time you go home.” He says at the table, during our supper of beef soup. He sets his spoon down in his bowl. “I’ll take ye. ‘Morrow mornin’. End of conversation.” He goes back to eating, but I can’t take another bite. Just the thought of having to face Sebastian again makes my stomach roll. Knowing he’s going to be smug and the cocky son of a bitch that he is makes me sick. If I never see his face again, it’ll be too soon. I push my soup around in its bowl, just staring at the chunks of meat and vegetables.

“I’m full.”  I say quietly, and abruptly stand up, leaving the table. It’s impolite, but I’m not in the mood. I just want to go to bed and sleep.

* * *

 

Sleeping seems to be a harder task than anticipated. I’m up all night coughing up phlegm. I can’t be sure because it’s dark in my room, but it tastes like blood. It feels like I have a paperweight pushing against my chest. Why can’t I breathe normally? I think I fall asleep sometime in the early morning before the sun rose. But my sleep is restless and when I wake I feel worse than I did the night before. My skin feels like it’s on fire. When I breathe it’s difficult, like I’m breathing underwater. I don’t want to get out of bed. It’s safe here. I curl up under the blankets, trying to keep myself protected. I don’t notice the time; I’m only interested in sleeping.

Just like before I don’t rest easily. I’m being chased by the shadows down the streets. I duck behind corners and alleyways, but they’re always there, following me, trying to reach me, trying to hurt me. I am constantly looking over my shoulder. I hide behind a garbage bin, and hold my breath. I think I’m safe.

But then they’re there. Only it’s not just the shadows, its Sebastian, smiling a twisted grin, his eyes gleaming. He wraps his fingers around my throat, and squeezes. I can feel my face turn purple as all the blood stops flowing.  His sick smile stares at me, teeth and lips covered in blood. His grip tightens on the neck, and I know there will be bruises. I struggle against his hold, my hands clawing feebly at his arms, his wrists, his face, anything I can reach. But my efforts are useless as my brain becomes deprived of oxygen my attacks become weaker. I try to stay awake, to fight this urge to close my eyes but it’s too much. The last thing I see is Sebastian’s black jacket, a gold rose pin sticking out of his pocket. The same pin my mother wears.

I open my eyes, but it still feels like I’m dreaming. I can’t breathe. I splutter, and fluid comes up as I cough. I cough and choke up the water that’s coming from my lungs. No, it’s not water. It’s blood. The metallic taste of iron fills my mouth. The weight on my chest doesn’t let up, making it so difficult to breathe. What is this? I sit up, choking back blood. The red liquid spills down from my lips, a dark red. It soaks in to the blankets and sheets, staining them. I get up from bed, tripping on my own feet as I make my way to the bathroom across the hall. The coughing spell has stopped thankfully, but I have left a trail of blood in my bath. I look in the mirror overtop of the sink and jump. With my mouth and chin covered in blood, my teeth tinged red; I look like Sebastian in my dream. I shudder. I rinse my mouth with water and strip off my blood-coated shirt and wipe off any red on my body. I can’t tell Charlie about this. He’ll think I’m the devil or something. I’ll hide the sheets, and then we’ll leave.


End file.
